Caged Lies
by Iryann
Summary: While the team is being chased by hellhounds, Meg sees an opening to get some payback for what a certain angel did to her once. Sam finds an unexpected appeal in Cas and Dean's not sure he likes it. Then there's Crowley, finding amusement in the drama.
1. Unexpected Opening

**A.N. **_This is an __AU starting after the hellhound chase in Caged Heat. A random idea that sort of hit me in the middle of a lovely week in Hawaii. I think my subconscious was missing the angst. SO, it's going to have a bit of everything in the pairing department. It's kind of slash but as canon as possible? I've never written slash before so feel free to tell me if I'm crap at it (although there's none in this chapter). _

_**P.S.** I haven't abandoned the other stories. I just needed to get this out and see if anyone liked it. PLEASE REVIEW SO I KNOW :)_

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><p>Sam watched as Meg opened her mouth and stood gaping up at the ceiling for a good two seconds before she apparently realized that something was not quite right.<p>

"It's a spell, I think, from Crowley," Castiel answered the unspoken question, looking more out of breath than Sam had seen him in a while. The smug look in his blue eyes threatened to pull a smirk from Sam's lips, "Within these walls you're locked inside your body."

"Well, karma's a bitch," Dean snarked, looking back towards the door to hide his own satisfied expression, "_Bitch_."

Not that Sam didn't find it all very amusing, but there was a time for jokes and a time for running, and right now his very soul-less brain was telling him to _get his ass moving_. But neither he nor Dean could see the hellhounds, and making Cas stay behind to fight them off wouldn't be a good idea, considering he was their trump card against Crowley. So that only left the demon.

Hell, if they chewed Meg to death Sam couldn't find it in himself to fake feeling bad about it.

Pulling Ruby's knife from his belt, he frowned, reluctant to hand it over. But Dean had of course seen him, and apparently mistakenly thought once again that a lack of soul means a lack of brains.

"What are you gonna do? You gonna slash into thin air until you hit something?" Sam ignored him, offering the knife to Meg.

"You can see them." He explained, noticing the measuring look in Meg's eyes and the way Cas tilted his head beside him, "Take this, hold them off. It's our best shot."

She seemed to think about it before refusing, "At Crowley. Take it and go." He could practically feel Dean frowning beside him, "You kill the smarmy dick," Her voice sounded graver than usual, but there was something off and Sam's eyes narrowed, "I'll hold off the dogs."

"Well, how're you gonna do that if you—" Dean's voice was cut off mid sentence as Meg just turned to Cas and curled a hand behind his neck to pull his lips down to hers.

For the first time in a long time, Sam felt something writhe inside him. He couldn't quite place the feeling. What was it, jealousy?

Castiel's brow was furrowed in obvious confusion, the shock rendering him momentarily immobile. Suddenly, Sam found his eyes drawn to Meg's free hand, and noticed she was searching inside the angel's trench coat. Everything fell into place then.

Too late.

Before he could think to warn the angel, the demon had pulled back his sword and stabbed him in the stomach, causing a surprised sound to leave Cas' lips that made something in Sam's chest tighten.

What was it with him today?

"Cas!" Dean yelled in alarm, already darting forward to keep the angel from falling. Sam frowned as he saw the bluish light leaving Castiel's wound, and held Ruby's knife tightly before stepping towards the demon.

She lifted Cas' blade, taking a few steps back, that familiar leer back on her face.

"Not so fast, Sammy." She cooed, but Sam could see her eyes drift uneasily towards the doors as the hellhounds got closer to barring them open.

"Meg, what the hell!" Dean snarled, struggling to keep Cas on his feet while putting pressure on the wound. Sam could hear the angel's wheezing behind him and glared coldly at the demon in front of him.

"Oh, come on, Deano," she teased, "Me and Clarence had some unfinished business, and I just figured out a way to get sweet, sweet payback for the lovely body art you left on me last time." She lifted her shirt to show them the ugly burns that marred the white skin of her stomach.

"So now what?" Sam asked, interrupting whatever string of insults Dean had been ready to throw at her, "You go and take care of Crowley all on your own? With an _angel_ blade?" his lips quirked up, "You don't even know if it'll work, do you?"

Meg's eyes narrowed as she glared at him, "The dogs will take their time chewing on your puppy angel's wings. You boys will be dessert." She sang, "Meanwhile I'll take that toy Scottie by surprise and stick it where it hurts."

Sam lunged at her once again, only to have her lash out with he free hand, sending him crashing against the wall while Dean and Cas flew back towards the other, his brother's grunt muffling Castiel's pained one. And it was a testament of how weak the angel was that he could be flung around by a measly demon.

"So," she chirped, "I'm just about done dealing with you bunch of horny teens," she strolled over to Castiel's trembling frame as he hung from the wall, grace bursting out with the blood tinting his shirt red. "Although," she raised an eyebrow, leering openly at the angel like only a demon had a right to, "I must admit, Clarence, it was _fun_," she bit her lip, lifting her free hand to run it down his chest and stick his hand in the wound, making Castiel tighten his jaw and glare down at Meg with an otherworldly coldness that made something deep inside Sam's soulless chest shiver with unexpected interest.

Seemingly torn between disappointment and lust at Castiel's silence, Meg ripped her hand from the wound, earning nothing but a muffled rasp.

"You're more stupid than I thought," Sam chuckled chokingly, her invisible grip making it hard to breathe, "I wasn't expecting you to turn on us until after we'd offed Crowley."

Meg turned to look at him, "Yeah, well, I hadn't expected to have an opening to take Blue Eyes, or trust me, I would have waited," she sent another leer in Cas' direction over her shoulder, "But such a great opportunity, I couldn't help but give in." she raised an eyebrow, "Temptation's not something I'm used to resisting." She winked lasciviously at the angel.

Dean was practically trembling with rage on Castiel's behalf, which in any other circumstance, Sam might have found amusing, but now he couldn't help but empathize with his brother. Which was just about the weirdest thing he'd come across since he'd been brought back.

"I wouldn't feel so triumphant…if I were you," Castiel rasped, a small smirk tugging on his lips at the questioning look in the demon's eyes, "If the…the hellhounds are here then…Crowley knows too."

Meg's eyes narrowed, and suddenly all her satisfaction seemed to have disappeared in favor of nervousness, maybe fear? "You know something," she accused, walking back to the angel, the blade a dangerous reminder of her power over him.

Castiel huffed a breath that, Sam thought, was as close to a chuckle as anything, "I just know…that if you'd b—" he winced, "Bothered to pay…attention…you'd have notices something." Meg frowned, her patience running thin as she studied the angel's blue gaze.

Then Sam got it.

"It's awfully quiet in here, don't you think?"

Dean's eyes widened in understanding only to close as he let his head fall back against the wall with a dry chuckle, "Wow. Today's just not your day, is it?"

Meg was already looking around in fear. Of course, Sam did remember that Crowley liked to brag about the size of his hellhounds, so maybe it was for good reason. Not that he'd be able to sympathize at the moment.

"Seems like…you'll end up serving…as dog food, just—" Sam found he didn't like how pale Cas was becoming. Not that he cared. Because he didn't. He couldn't. Right? "Just like us." He finished with a tired, small grin.

The demon snapped her eyes to glare back at him, black as ebony in the midst of her fear. But before she could threaten to do anything to Cas, the doors they'd been trying to escape through burst open, and a choir of angry barks and roars echoed through the hallway directly towards them.

Meg was the first to go down. A hound leaped on top of her and pushed her harshly to the floor, earning a terrified scream from the demon. And despite the fact that Sam would have been perfectly fine with watching her get torn apart, the hounds just held her down and snarled threateningly whenever she struggled.

Okay? So much for that.

At least it set them free. Sam used this time to try and catch his breath, only to see his brother tense across from him, eyeing the space in front of Cas with something between fear and protectiveness while Cas simply leaned heavily against the wall. Dean stepped in front of the angel—unarmed, the idiot—in a last attempt to protect him from the hellhounds, but he was thrown aside without much effort on their part, it seemed.

Sam was going to try to help—what? He _was_—but was thrown off by the angel's expression. He didn't seem afraid. In fact, if Sam didn't know any better he'd have said he looked _relieved_.

Dean was glaring disbelievingly at him from wherever he'd landed, "Sam, what are you doing!" he growled, staggering to his feet to help Castiel.

But Sam just raised his hand and shushed him, not taking his eyes off the angel, "Look."

Castiel let himself slide down to the floor, a small gasp of pain making it past his lips.

Then the unthinkable happened.

A couple of very dog-like whimpers came from somewhere in front of the angel, and the padding of paws on the dirty marble floor as the hounds carefully approached Cas and…licked his face?

Sam still couldn't see them but from the sounds of if, and the way that Cas' cheeks were suddenly wet with sticky-looking saliva, he was pretty sure the big, scary hellhounds were acting around Cas like sweet, little puppies.

"The hell?" he heard Dean mutter.

"Looks like Cas is the…hellhound whisperer." Sam snorted, still unable to look away from the angel, who was trying to push the hounds away so they would stop liking his face.

"Well I'll be damned." Dean raised his eyebrows, eying the angel with a mixed look of amusement and disbelief.

A loud whistle startled them out of the reverie, and they turned to the closest door to see Crowley watching them with his usual smug expression. The hellhounds whined and padded back towards their master, one of them bumping Dean on the way, who barely managed to keep himself from jumping.

The demon looked down at Meg, who had been released by the hellhound and had backed up against the farthest wall, glaring hatefully at Crowley.

"Crowley," she greeted, a pathetic attempt to hide her fear and anger behind her usual leer.

Crowley arched his eyebrows, as though surprised that she'd even try to speak in her situation. Sam knew better than to think he was anything but amused at the moment, "Whore." He replied easily, making Meg's grin vanish from her face.

She took a reckless step forward only to be stopped by the angry snarl of a hellhound. Apparently still smart enough to not risk getting mauled, she pressed her back to the wall again.

A muffled pained grunt brought everyone's attention back to Castiel, who was trying in vain to push himself up. Dean immediately went to his aid and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, urging him to stay down.

Crowley watched all this with a look that Sam wasn't quite sure how to read, but as those dark eyes focused on the fallen angel, there was a familiarity in them that made the hunter pause.

"Really, Cas," Sam could practically feel Dean blanch at the use of the nickname, "This is getting ridiculous."

Sam frowned, looking down at Castiel, who was glaring angrily at the demon. Dean's eyes moving from the angel to Crowley in confusion.

"How many times am I gonna have to clean up your messes?"

…_what?_


	2. Ultimatum

**A.N.**_ I know. It's extremely short. But I needed to get this part of the conversation out of the way before the plot really started. More soon!_

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><p>Castiel's glare intensified as Crowley raised a hand, lifting the angel from the ground in the process. Dean latched onto Cas' sleeve with almost desperate speed.<p>

"Crowley leave him alone!" he growled, all papa bear in action. Sam would have found it amusing if the sight of Castiel suspended in the air, breathing raggedly yet still managing to give the demon an icy stare didn't do weird things to his chest.

This was getting weird.

Maybe his soul was coming back? No, that couldn't be it. Sam was pretty sure that he still didn't give a crap about Dean. And one would think that _that_'d be the first thing he did when he got his conscience back.

It had to be something else. Something about _Castiel_. And he was going to find out.

But for that he needed to get Cas alive, and if that meant killing Crowley then Sam needed to focus. Although something gave him the impression that the angel and the demon knew each other better than they'd thought.

"In a moment, darling," he mocked, making Dean seethe with anger before shoving him back against the wall.

"Crowley," Castiel rasped, looking paler by the second but still managing to sound every bit the warrior of God that he was. And there was that strange something in Sam's chest again.

"Oh, you're no fun," Crowley rolled his eyes. A whine from around the demon brought his dark eyes down to his hellhounds, and Crowley looked positively annoyed then. "You know, one of the things that make hellhounds useful is their special appetite for you pigeons." He turned his eyes back to the angel, "You want to explain to me why mine have taken such a liking to you?"

Castiel's glare didn't falter, but it was clear that he wouldn't be able to stay conscious much longer.

A pained yelp came from one of the hounds, and they all turned around to see a small puddle of black blood on the floor and an angel blade embedded in the wall.

Meg was nowhere to be seen.

"Damn, that little insect did it again." Crowley grumbled without much enthusiasm, "And I would've liked to play with her for a bit, too." He glanced at Sam and Dean, amusement already shining in his dark grey eyes, "Guess that will have to wait, then."

"_Crowley."_

"Oh, alright! Don't get your feathers in a twist." He rolled his eyes, before Sam or Dean could blink, they were suddenly in a much better furnished room. The expensive furniture had Crowley's name written all over it, but before Sam could take a look around for exits or possible weapons, Dean was yelling again.

"Cas!" he turned flaming green eyes to the demon, "You son of a bitch! Where did you send him?"

Crowley merely looked up from his glass of scotch, unimpressed, "I forgot how adorable you are when you get angry," he mocked. Before Dean could have an aneurism, though, he sighed, "Relax, mate." He nodded towards a black leather sofa, "Your angel's right there."

And he was.

Castiel lied on the elegant sofa, his skin a stark contrast to the dark material surrounding him. His breathing was erratic, and there was a gleam of cold sweat on his brow. The wound on his stomach didn't seem to be bleeding anymore, but the rose colored tint on his white shirt was still there. And that was cause of worry enough as it was.

"Cas!" Dean ran to their fallen angel, which made Sam's eyes narrow for a second before he ignored the discomfort at the sight of the two of them so close and turned to Crowley, who was looking at him with an arched brow.

"Why did you take him with us?" he questioned him, the demon's first words upon saving them suddenly coming back to him, "Did you manage to string him up for your little purgatory mission?"

A little smirk tugged on the demon's lips as he strolled slowly away from the liquor table, "Actually," he glanced back at him, "That's exactly what I did."

"You're lying," Dean snarled from where he knelt beside the angel, "Cas knows better than to play along with your tricks." He slowly rose to his feet, the expression in his eyes so dark that Sam had no trouble imagining why souls in Hell had been terrified of his brother.

"Yes," Crowley agreed, "He does." The demon was barely able to hide the smug grin that was slowly curling his lips upwards as he turned completely towards Dean, "But he also knows better than to take on an archangel on his own." Sam frowned, and Dean was already walking towards the demon, a threat in every step, "Little Cas didn't have a choice."

"No," Dean denied, but Sam merely brought his eyes to the angel. It was then that he noticed the dark circles under his eyes, and realized that the exhausted appearance the angel had had when he'd summoned him down had not because of the eerie lighting. "He wouldn't stoop that low if he was really in trouble. He would have asked for help!"

It was almost pathetic how Dean's voice was as much firm as it was desperate.

"And he was going to." Crowley was having too much fun with this, that much was clear, "But you were with your…what was it, ex-lady friend and _not _-kid," he glanced at Sam, "And your moose had been risen and decided very impolitely to ignore you."

"_You son of a bitch,"_ Dean growled under his breath.

"You were out of the game." Crowley interrupted him firmly, chin up, eying him with a narrow glare, "Out of limits, as far as your little feather ball was concerned, and you were to stay that way."

Sam could see the warring emotions in his brother, the cloud of regret practically visible over his head.

"But what did you offer him?" Sam took a threatening step towards Crowley, "What do you have that Cas can use? And how is that related to Purgatory?"

Crowley raised his eyebrows, "That's a lot of clever questions, Jolly Green, I'm impressed." But Sam didn't budge and Crowley heaved a breath, swirling the amber liquid around his glass, "Let's just say Raphael gave dear Cas a deadline that needed an immediate solution if Earth and you little denim-clad nightmares were to remain alive."

"A deadline?" Dean seemed to have calmed down enough to listen, at least."

"One day."

"One day?" Dean glared, "One day for _what_?" he hissed, already getting impatient.

But Sam had an idea of what. It made sense.

"The Apocalypse." Dean looked at him, confusion in his eyes. Anger had a tendency to make Dean slow on the uptake sometimes, "Raphael probably gave Cas a choice."

"Ding, ding, ding! Tell him what he's won, Vanna." Crowley congratulated him. His amusement was starting to grate on Sam's nerves. "In Castiel's words, he was to 'submit or die'," the demon made sure to mock Castiel's grave voice as he explained, "and he only had one measly day to make that choice."

"What did you say to him?" Dean demanded, stepping up to Crowley to glare down at him with an angry sneer.

"Pardon?" Crowley arched an eyebrow.

"Cas might have been desperate," and it was clear how much it pained Dean that he hadn't realized this before, "But you wouldn't have been able to get through to him too easily so," his eyes darkened to those of a seasoned torturer, "What. Did you. Say."

Crowley's grin was like the cat that ate the canary, "I only mentioned that not taking my offer would only render the work you two had done obsolete." Dean froze. But of course Crowley would have used them. They were Castiel's weakness. "All that pain, all that loss. Your poor angel couldn't possibly make that amount to nothing."

Dean glared darkly at the demon, his shoulders set and his hands shaking in fists at his sides. Sam actually found anger flame inside him, and turned a cold look towards Crowley.

"But you haven't found Purgatory yet, or you wouldn't still be here. And Cas only had a day." Sam deduced, "So you must have sweetened the pot somehow."

The demon walked back to the expensive bottles of scotch to refill his glass, "I had disposable souls. He didn't. I merely gave him a little loan."

"Souls? From Hell?"

"Yes, or have you two maggots forgotten that I'm not just a mediocre crossroads demon anymore?"

"And Cas—" Sam could see the anger at the angel in his brother's eyes and frowned. Did Dean really think that Cas had had any choice? Sam was supposed to be the heartless one here.

"Accepted, yes," Crowley finished, and Sam could have sworn the demon got almost defensive in his response. Huh. Maybe Cas' awkward charm had gotten to the demon as well. Go figure. "And before you start another of your self-righteous tantrums I'll remind you that neither of you would be standing here now if he hadn't."

That seemed to shut Dean up. Points to Crowley.

"So." Crowley started, going back to his laid back stance, "Nice chat, boys. Really." He narrowed his eyes, "But unlike you children I have work to do. And now that Mommy's down for the count, Daddy will have to work a double shift." He narrowed his eyes at Dean, "Thanks for that. Take care of my kitten for me." He nodded towards Cas and disappeared, smug grin, glass of scotch and all.


	3. Just a little bit of Lust

**A.N. **_Warning. This is the first time I try to write anything mildly slashy, so forgive any awkwardness you may find in the writing._

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><p>Sam sorted through Crowley's expensive liquor while Dean sat on the coffee table by the sofa, eyes fixed on the unconscious angel resting there. The older Winchester hadn't moved or talked since the demon had disappeared, just walked back to Castiel and sat down to watch over him.<p>

That uncomfortable nagging feeling in his chest still hadn't left, and Sam was starting to get frustrated. But he'd have to wait until Cas woke up to get any answers—unless Crowley graced them with his presence anytime soon. He had a feeling that the demon would have a hint as to why he was _feeling_ things—even if they only related to Castiel.

Pouring two glasses of scotch, he took a sip and made a pleased sound before refilling his glass. Putting the bottle back to its place, he took the glasses and walked back to his brother, offering him one without comment. Dean blinked and looked up at him with a mix of suspicion and surprise, but Sam ignored him and sat on the closest armchair.

After their drinks were halfway gone, Sam spoke.

"You realize Crowley's right," Dean glanced at him over his shoulder, "About Cas?"

Dean sighed and looked back at the angel, rubbing his face tiredly without replying.

"Dean, you can't honestly think he had a choice."

"He could have told me." The older of the two replied, both full of regret and anger. And Sam wasn't sure who those feelings where directed at.

"You were _out,_ Dean." He rolled his eyes, not bothering to give him the little-brother-puppy-eyes that he'd been forced to make upon meeting him again, "He probably did it for the same reasons Bobby didn't tell you I was live." Because Sam couldn't say that his own motives had been so pure anymore.

"Yeah, but I'm not with Lisa anymore." Dean growled, "You'd think he could have found a second to let me know that everything was falling to shit on his side."

Sam stayed silent for a moment, "And what would you have done?"

Dean turned around and glared at him, obviously not appreciating the question. "No, seriously. I mean, even _I_'ve noticed how exhausted Cas looks, but all you ever call him down for is to deal with _me_. To get my soul back. You've never been remotely interested in what he was dealing with upstairs, Dean." He could see a crack of guilt in his brother's angry mask, "He probably thought that you couldn't bother with his problems, or that you didn't _care_."

Dean didn't say anything, but Sam could see that he had gotten to him. And wasn't it ironic, that the one without soul was playing Jiminy Cricket for the one that had it? The old Sam would have given up at this point, not wanting to pour salt over the wound.

But he wasn't that Sam.

"Especially when all you do is get pissed at him when he doesn't come down immediately, or doesn't give you an immediate solution to your problems." Dean flinched, "He's at war, Dean. He's fighting for us," He scoffed, "And all you ever do is give him shit about it."

Dean rubbed his face, closing his eyes for a moment. Sam glanced at the angel. Why was he getting so protective of Cas anyway? Was it because of that new feeling? Something that came with seeing such a powerful being brought down by exhaustion and injury?

"But he's working with Crowley, Sam." And the hunter hoped his brother realized how pathetic he sounded at the moment. Like he was grasping at straws to find a reason to stay angry.

"Dean. _We're_ working with Crowley. Hell, we've done it before."

Dean sighed and nodded, downing his glass and setting it down on the coffee table with finality.

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><p>They sat in silence for a long time, and Dean actually drifted off to sleep on one of the free couches in the gaudy room. After a few hours though, a hitched breath brought Sam's attention away from one of the books he'd found on Crowley's shelves. Maybe he should <em>borrow<em> a couple of these. Sam was pretty sure he'd never seen them before, and he'd been through Bobby's and most of Samuel's libraries already.

Bringing his eyes to the figure on the couch next to him, he snapped the book close, watching intently as Castiel jerked awake, startled by the sound. Wide blue eyes looked around in alarm, searching for a possible threat. Upon seeing Sam, the angel relaxed, closing his eyes for a brief moment before seemingly remembering that Sam might not be as safe to be around as he'd used to be. He eyed the hunter with pained wariness, and Sam couldn't help the spark of amusement that Castiel's uneasiness gave him.

He tossed the book on the coffee table, glancing briefly at Dean to check that he was still sleeping. "Hey, Cas," He greeted, giving his best worried-puppy impression, "How're you feeling?"

Castiel tried to push himself up on his arm, but only managed to do so halfway before letting out a grunt of pain and losing his balance. Sam quickly put a hand on his chest to keep him from falling off the couch, "Easy," He soothed.

Blue eyes looked at him, full of agony, and Sam could see that the angel was looking for any sign that he could trust him. From the way Cas closed his eyes in resignation, Sam figured he hadn't found anything. He hid a smile.

"What are you doing, Sam?" His voice was deep, more gravelly than usual, and this time Sam could be sure that the warmth came from farther down than his chest.

Oh.

So maybe that's what it was. It would make sense.

Lust made sense.

"Just trying to take care of you, Cas," he answered, watching the angel with renewed interest at this discovery.

Lust he could deal with. Lust he could understand; he could _rationalize._ Lust was instinct. Lust wasn't a _feeling_, as he'd discovered in his year without Dean.

"That's just what friends do for each other," He smiled, repeating his words from earlier that evening.

Castiel's eyes narrowed, obviously aware of this. He was right to be suspicious, the little angel. The memory brought Sam back to the way Cas had walked right up to him after the hunter had threatened to kill him; the way his ancient eyes had suddenly gone cold with the amusement of a giant being threatened by an ant.

"_Will you, _boy_?"_

The challenge in the angel's eyes had hit something inside him. No one had ever done that to him. Especially not someone who was smaller than him, with a lean body that under normal circumstances wouldn't have stood a chance against Sam's large, hulking one. Not while Sam was a monster without a conscience.

Castiel's eyes drifted nervously towards Dean. And wasn't it precious? Now the angel was nervous. Because now Sam could do whatever he wanted to him, and Cas would be unable to keep him away. Following the angel's eyes to make sure his brother was still asleep, he felt a spark of annoyance when Dean started to wake.

Damn.

Cas seemed to deflate with relief as he noticed the hunter rise, too. But Sam had a feeling that Cas didn't know just what exactly Sam was planning on doing to him. The angel was probably remembering the talk they'd had before going to Crowley's, and the threat Sam had made of finding a way to kill him.

But, unfortunately for the little angel—and Sam found that he kind of liked to think of Cas like that—, as soon as Dean opened his eyes and found a pair of blue ones on him, he tensed and sat up. Sam smiled, knowing the signs of Dean getting ready to bail on an uncomfortable moment. Rubbing his face off sleep, Dean ignored the two of them as he rose to his feet.

"Dean—"

"Not now, Cas." Dean interrupted, avoiding the angel's eyes as he started walking out of the room. It's probably a good thing that Dean missed the hurt in the angel's eyes.

"Where're you going?" Sam asked, keeping his eyes on Castiel.

"I'm gonna call Bobby, he's probably wondering why we haven't checked in with him yet." Dean muttered, "Then I'm gonna find something to eat. I'm starving."

Good, so Dean was going to keep busy and away from the angel as much as he could. Perfect.

"Right," he answered distractedly, noticing with delight that Castiel's eyes had widened slightly with something that looked a bit like fear.

"Dean, I—"

"I said _not now_, Cas. We can talk later." And with that, Dean was out of the room and Castiel was left alone with Sam. Sam, who was looking at him with a glint to his eyes that could only be compared to that of a curious predator.

Castiel swallowed and glared at the hunter, and Sam felt that spark again. That pleasant burn he got when Cas looked at him like that—like only someone that wasn't human could look at him. Like only and _angel_ could look at him.

Not bothering to hide a smile this time, he sat on the edge of the couch, studying the way Castiel tensed and tried to push himself away. Thriving at the way Castiel refused to show any kind of fear or intimidation in his eyes.

"What's the matter, Cas?" he asked with exaggerated concern as he placed a hand on the angel's shoulder, "You okay?"

"Stop." It was an order. A warning. And Sam could feel the thrill of a challenge already burning him from the inside out.

Ever since he'd come back from the pit he'd felt cold inside, empty. Not that it bothered him much. In fact, he had come to make up for the hollowness inside him by letting his violence run free, taking immediate action on his lust, living on adrenaline when he got bored.

But _Cas…_

Sam wasn't sure what it was yet, but something about the angel made him feel hot inside, and he wanted more of that feeling. He wanted to understand _why,_ and he was curious…but first he wanted to see how hot it could get. How hot could a body without the intensity of a soul burn? That was what he was planning on finding out first.

And now that Cas was injured, it was the perfect time. Because despite how much he pushed, Sam knew with certainty that Castiel wouldn't kill him. Because Sam wasn't _himself_. So he couldn't blame the friend he knew for whatever this soulless monster did.

Castiel tried to back away from him and sit up, but he must have been hurt more badly than they'd thought because suddenly he was letting out a pained rasp and curling in on himself, pressing a hand to his wound. It looked like it had started bleeding again.

Sam couldn't find it in himself to feel guilty of course, so he merely clicked his tongue and pushed the angel on his back. "See? Now you've reopened your wound. Just stay still, Cas. Let me do all the work."

It seemed like the pain and frustration of not being able to move was feeding into Castiel's uneasiness, and he looked at Sam with wide eyes that—while not fearful—carried the dread of someone who knew that they were in trouble.

The angel opened his mouth, most likely to reason with him, but Sam merely took the chance and pressed his lips to Castiel's. It wasn't gentle, and it wasn't sweet. It was a violent mesh of mouths and lips and teeth, and Cas let out a surprised whimper before pushing at Sam's shoulders.

"_Sam!"_ He rasped, and clearly from the look in those blue eyes, this had been the last thing Cas had been expecting. Poor, naïve little angel. Sam smiled; he'd probably thought Sam was going to try to kill him. Castiel was smart, and Sam knew that he'd probably figured out—as soon as Dean left the room—that Crowley had told them about their little alliance. It would have been a good assumption considering how little Cas knew this new Sam, and that the last time they'd talked alone the hunter had threatened to kill him if he didn't help. "Sam, what are you—why are you doing this?" The look of total confusion was actually kind of endearing.

"Because," Sam eyed the angel's lips, "There's something about _you_." He met the angel's eyes then, and the look of alarm tugged at his chest. There. Again. "And I don't know what it is," he nudged Cas' cheek with his nose, "But it makes me _feel_ things, and I want to know why." Castiel's eyes widened then, and Sam almost got the feeling that the angel knew the answer to his question. But it wouldn't be fun if he just told the hunter and solved the problem.

No, Sam wanted to experiment a little first.

"Sam, I—" Cas' breath hitched as Sam attacked his neck, licking a long wet patch along the length of it before sinking his teeth in. He could feel Castiel's mouth fall open with a pained gasp, a shudder running up the angel's spine, and the burn in Sam's chest started spreading all over him.

Yes.

Finally.

This was already more promising than any of the women he'd picked up during his year alone, even the few men he'd been curious enough to experiment with—after all, stuff like that doesn't matter when you have no moral stand or stereotypes. Flesh is just flesh.

"Sam, _stop_." The angel demanded, pushing weakly against his chest. And it was a testament of how badly injured Cas was that he could barely move him a few inches.

Castiel was beginning to panic; Sam could hear it in the way his breathing started to become heavy and irregular. With a quiet chuckle, he nibbled on the angel's neck one last time before pulling back to take a look at his angel.

Because Cas was _his_ now.

The angel was blushing madly, no doubt in shame and humiliation at his inability to do anything to defend his virtue—and the thought made Sam's lips quirk up. But the flush of his skin was also a reaction to what Sam had been doing to his vessel, and Sam ate the vision in front of him hungrily. Castiel had never been treated like this before, he'd never felt this kind of response from his human body; and Sam was more than happy to make the angel experience all kinds of new things. Hopefully Dean would wallow in his own pity-party for a bit longer.

"Relax, Cas," he smiled, and took pleasure in the way the angel's eyes were as much glaring at him as they were pleading for him to stop, "Just enjoy the ride."

The hunter spread his large hands over Cas' chest, and the angel squirmed, still trying to escape him, his own hands trying more forcefully to push Sam away. "Stop," With a growl of annoyance—because even this weakened, Cas would not give up—, Sam pushed the angel's hands tight against his torso and moved to straddle him, keeping his arms immobilized with his legs.

He watched for a moment as Castiel struggled with renewed alarm, trying to dislodge himself from Sam's weight, "_Sam_," he rasped, but the hunter only leaned down and kissed him, tasting blood, forcing Cas' mouth to meet his with one hand gripping the angel's chin while the other loosened the old, blue tie and started unbuttoning his shirt.

It was like he'd finally reached a nerve, because Cas began struggling in earnest, this time fear clear in his wide blue eyes as he shook his head to keep his lips away from the human's, "Sam, no," he traced his lips down his jaw and nibbled the line of his neck to his collarbone, sucking harshly and earning himself a scared whimper from the angel, "Sam…" Castiel's chest heaved with every breath, and Sam mildly wondered if Cas would start hyperventilating. One glance at those glazed blue eyes and he knew that Cas would not stay conscious for long. "Please…"

Somewhere inside him, that part of him that had flared at the thought of Castiel getting hurt when they were betrayed by Meg; the one that had defended Cas against Dean's anger, it was telling him to stop; that he didn't want to hurt Cas. But Sam was having way too much fun to listen to that unfamiliar and new voice in his head.

Pressing his lips back on the smooth skin of the angel's chest, Sam thrived in the desperate sounds that were leaving Castiel's mouth.

* * *

><p>Dean rubbed his face, pocketing his phone before making his way back towards the room Crowley had left them in. He'd been planning on taking a look around, but after a while he'd found himself back in the hallways of the prison, and the smell of blood and rot had hit him like a punch to the nose, making him turn right around and go back the way he came.<p>

He sighed. Dean knew he'd have to talk to Cas at some point. And he could understand what the angel had been dealing with while they remained oblivious down on Earth. Somehow, that wasn't the problem. Dean was ready to forgive Cas for all of that. He was. He just wasn't sure if he was ready to step up to the plate and face his own blame in the matter.

Because, God help them all, Sam was right. And that was probably one of the things that pissed him off the most. The fact that Robo-Sam had to be the one to open his eyes to just how much Cas had been going through, and how much of a dick Dean had been to him, that was just…not right.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered why Sam had even bothered to defend Cas in the first place. It wouldn't have been weird to see that in the old Sam, but this one shouldn't have cared less about Castiel. He'd have to figure that out soon, Sam's attention could not mean anything good when he was like this…and the way Cas had called his name as he was leaving him alone with Sam suddenly made dread swell in his stomach.

The hunter rushed back to the room, intent on making sure that his gut was wrong and Sam was still right where he'd left him, drinking away Crowley's booze without a single care in the world.

But of course, that wasn't what he found upon opening the door.

Dean's eyes widened in horror, his mouth gaping open at the sight of his brother's large frame covering his friend's, straddling the angel's hips and nibbling at Castiel's chest. Castiel, who looked like he was barely conscious and absolutely miserable.

S_cared_.

Cas looked scared.

Anger soon boiled over his shock, and Dean's voice reverberated as a low growl from deep within his chest, "Get away from him," He snarled, walking over to the monster walking around with his brother's face, ready to pull him away from the angel, "Sam, get the _fuck_ away from him." When Sam only paused to look over his shoulder at Dean, raising an eyebrow like he hadn't been ravishing an angel, and _licked his lips_, Dean saw red.

He had a gun pointed at Sam before he even knew what he was doing, but his brother only eyed it with little to no concern. "What are you doing, Dean?" And he could have sworn that was amusement in Sam's eyes.

"Don't think I won't shoot you, you sick son of a bitch, so get the fuck away from Cas. _Now._"

Sam glanced down at Castiel, whose eyes had gone wide at the sight of the older Winchester. Sam winked at him, and the angel actually flinched. Dean watched with a dark glare as his brother swiped a finger over Castiel's lips almost with gentleness, but the angel just closed his eyes and turned his head away. "Well," he said conversationally, like he'd just been reading a book and was going to stretch his legs for a while, "I think I'm gonna take a walk."

Dean lowered his gun slightly, watching warily as Sam stood and walked around him and towards the door, not once looking back at the gun still pointed at him.

Once the door was closed, Dean unloaded the gun and dropped to his knees beside the couch. "Cas? Hey, Cas, you okay?" He put a careful hand on the angel's shoulder, his heart clenching at the way he could feel it tense under his fingers, "He's gone, alright? He's gone."

"Dean?" The angel rasped, and the shudder in his voice made Dean hate the robot that had taken his brother's place all the more. Cas was barely conscious, for fuck's sake. What the hell had Sam been thinking?

One look at the wound—so close to the angel's chest it made him cringe—and Dean knew the struggle had probably reopened it and slowed down whatever progress Cas had made in healing it during the few hours he'd been asleep.

_Damn it._

"Yeah, Cas, I'm here." He squeezed his friend's shoulder, "I'm not leaving again, don't worry."

Glazed blue eyes struggled to meet his, and Dean couldn't help but linger on the red marks on the angel's neck, his jaw clenching with anger once again.

"I'm sorry, Dean." It was barely a whisper, but Dean still flinched, finally meeting Cas' eyes, "I'm sorry." He mumbled, obviously holding on to his awareness for as long as he could.

Feeling his chest tighten with guilt, he shook his head, "No, Cas," and the way the angel's eyes pinched with hurt made him tighten his hold on his shoulder, "_I'm _sorry. It's my fault too, I'm sorry."

Castiel was shaking his head, but Dean only had to take a gentle hold of the angel's chin to stop the motion, "_Yes_." He sighed, "I'm a selfish bastard, and I should have realized you were going through a rough time. I didn't offer you any help, so…" he licked his lips, "I'm sorry, okay? I am."

The angel's lips—swollen and reddened in a way that Dean refused to think about—quirked slightly upwards in one of his resigned smiles, like Dean was being an idiot. And the fact that Castiel really thought Dean wasn't at fault for anything made him want to shake his friend and call _him_ an idiot.

But then Cas closed his eyes, the combination of his wound and what Sam had tried to do to him finally taking its toll on him. With a baited breath, Dean watched as the angel's chest started rising and falling at a less irregular pace, even if a little more shallow than he would have liked.

Letting out a long breath once he was certain that Cas was really asleep, Dean glared down at the disheveled white shirt and fixed the buttons and tie to their previous state. Then he pushed himself up only to sit on the coffee table by the couch, still watching his friend intently. Dean rubbed his face, sending out a pleading look towards the ceiling that he immediately resented himself for.

_It could have been worse._ He thought to himself, _Cas could have held this under wraps for longer, and then it might have been too late. We can still fix this._

He glanced down at the empty glass sitting close beside him. Yeah, he could do with a drink right about now.

"I hope you haven't been nagging the kitten with your brooding," a smoky voice to his right made him jump, and Dean glared up at the demon standing next to him. With a frown, he realized that Crowley's attention was focused on Castiel, and that despite his apparent nonchalance, his eyes were studying the angel closely.

"What do you want?" He asked, more resigned than angry.

"I want to know why my business associate looks more rumpled than when I left him with you." The demon answered. Once again, Dean caught an underlying emotion behind the usual scorn in his voice, but he couldn't determine what it was. Suddenly, Crowley narrowed his eyes, which darkened at the sight of what Dean had to assume were the reddened marks on Castiel's neck. "I'm assuming it wasn't _you_ who left those charming love bites on his wiry neck."

Dean didn't even bother to respond to that.

Crowley carefully set himself back to his non-caring poise, "I believe your moose is becoming more trouble than he's worth."

Again, Dean didn't deign that with an answer.

After a long moment, Crowley disappeared from his side, but Dean could hear the tinkling of glass and knew that the demon was merely pouring himself a drink.

"Can you get his soul back?" He suddenly asked, keeping his eyes on the sleeping angel.

"No." Crowley replied after a long pause, and Dean surprisingly believed him. "And I'm assuming Castiel told you what would happen if you did get it back."

Dean heaved a sigh, and merely nodded his head. But despite what Cas had said—and Crowley apparently agreed on—Dean couldn't help but want his brother back even more than before. His Sam wouldn't have done this to Cas. His Sam would have given him a speech on forgiveness, and how he'd done the same with Ruby, and Dean had almost done the same with Michael, and that Castiel deserved another chance. Sam would have been sitting where Dean sat now and tried to comfort the angel.

"There has to be a way." He said, not sure if he was telling Crowley or just talking to himself. Either way, the demon hummed, and Dean assumed he was taking a sip of his scotch before answering,

"Never said there wasn't." He muttered suddenly, and Dean could just _hear_ the smirk in his voice. Snapping his head around so fast he almost gave himself whiplash, Dean glared at the demon in disbelief.

"You and Cas said you couldn't do it!" He accused.

"I said _I_ couldn't. Little Cas said you probably _shouldn't_." Crowley corrected with a small grin.

Suddenly conscious of the angel sleeping near him, Dean stood from the coffee table and walked over to the demon.

"Quite in point of fact," Crowley continued, obviously pleased that he'd caught his attention, "You happen to be in good terms with one of the few beings in existence with enough juice to pull it off." He paused, "Or as friendly as you can get with someone who sees you as a mere microbe."

Dean's eyes widened, "_Death?_"

"You're less dense than usual. Bravo," Crowley mocked him, taking another sip of his expensive liquor.

But Dean wasn't paying attention to him anymore. His mind was running with all the new possibilities that had been offered to him with that one name. He had to call Bobby, have him find a way to communicate with the old horseman—as soon as he convinced the old hunter that his plan wasn't completely nuts, of course.

Growling at Crowley to keep and eye on Cas—and he couldn't believe he'd reached the point where he'd rather have a _demon_ watch over the angel than his own brother—Dean left the room in a hurry.

He had an appointment to make.


	4. Blood In Your Mouth

**A.N. **_Once again, sorry I keep taking so long. College is obliterating my happy writing time. I hope the long chapter makes up for it. Enjoy! :)_

**_Disclaimer: _**_Not mine, never mine._

* * *

><p>Crowley stood by the unconscious angel, watching him quietly with his trusty glass of scotch in hand.<p>

"You'd think a brilliant creature such as yourself would be smarter when making friends, mate." He said almost softly, not wanting to wake the stubborn pigeon after what the Winchester Moose had done to him. "But I guess I'm not one to talk, since I can't even bring myself to get rid of you even if the cat's out of the bag." One of the hounds padded carefully towards the angel and leaned her large snout by his chest, her warm breath ruffling the lapels of his bloody overcoat as she whined. He scoffed; half annoyed, half amused at the sight, "Even the bloody dogs like you." With a sigh, he chuckled, "I reiterate but, Buddy Boy, you've got what they call _sex appeal_."

The demon almost wished Castiel was awake to glare at him, but, even he couldn't deny, there was something fascinating about how vulnerable—how _innocent —_a millennia-old supernatural being could appear when asleep. Even if he wasn't so much asleep as _passed out_, he thought with a frown.

A mammoth-sized—blessedly empty of their usual puppy-dog self-pity— fool crept by the door, as if Crowley couldn't feel him galumphing around from a mile away. His usual smirk already pulling on the edges of his lips, he flicked to fingers from the glass, and sent the annoying pest flying to the wall.

"I admire your impulsive tendencies, Sam, I do," He said before turning around to face the soulless beast, "But I was under the impression that not having a soul had reduced your patented Winchester stupidity."

Sam glared coldly at him with a razor-sharp smile, "And I was under the impression that demons weren't supposed to cuddle with angels."

Crowley narrowed his eyes, "Eavesdropping, mate? Of course, how could I forget? You have no class." He lifted his chin and the hunter grunted as his chest suddenly constricted under the weight of his power. Crowley eased up as he walked back to his expensive liquor, leaving Sam taking ragged breaths.

"You're one to talk…"

The demon turned to face him, raising his eyebrows questioningly as he took a sip of his scotch.

"That little coin trick of yours…" Sam's smile was cold, it was almost like talking to a demon, "I'd say that takes the cake."

_My little magical coin. Right._

He pointed at himself—and surely, the answer must have been obvious by then—, "Demon."

Sam scoffed, looking away from him to glance at the sleeping angel across the room. Crowley watched him for a moment, then finally gave in, "So," Hazel eyes turned to his, "What's with the sudden interest in our beloved little Cas."

"You tell me," Crowley arched a brow, "I haven't felt anything for a year and now it's like I'm suddenly back on the soul train. Just…only for Cas." The eyes that studied him had an analytical coldness to them that was almost intriguing. Almost.

"I can imagine that would be frustrating," he conceded with amusement, turning his own eyes to the angel as he took another sip of scotch.

"You know something." The moose accused.

"As a matter of fact, I do." He conceded, "But then I'd have to admit to a few more lies from your darling angel and, well," He smirked, "I'm sure your now-functioning heart wouldn't take it very well, now would it."

"_Tell me._" Sam snarled. Oh, hit a nerve there? Maybe he could have some fun at the expense of this new weakness. Crowley couldn't help but be curious about what the hunter's reaction to the truth would be.

"Well, lad," he started, watching carefully to gauge for any infinitesimal emotional response, "I wasn't the one who gripped your antlers tighter and pulled you from Perdition."

It barely took a second for Sam to make the connection, "It was Cas?" he glanced at the angel for a moment, and Crowley would have paid a few souls to know what was going on inside that hairy head of his, "He was surprised when he found out my soul was missing." He said it as though it was fact, not like he was using it as an excuse. The angel couldn't lie that well just yet (if at all).

"I can imagine he was." He agreed, "He didn't really know anything was wrong until your brother started getting all paranoid. Even then, he didn't even realize it was your _soul_ that was missing until he angel-fisted you himself."

Sam was quiet for a long time, just watching Castiel with a thoughtful look. "I didn't know there was a way to rescue me once I got locked in the box." And he almost sounded like the old Sam, Crowley thought wryly, Dean would have been proud.

"As I understand it," he answered, although Sam still wouldn't look away from the angel, "There wasn't. But the little-angel-that-could tried anyway, of course, stubborn Featherbrain that he is." He looked down at the amber liquid in his glass with a contemplative sound, "Then again, considering you fell in there _body and soul,_ unlike your darling brother, he might have actually succeeded had Lucifer just dragged your spirit with him and left your corpse to rot topside."

"Did it hurt him?" Sam asked suddenly, and Crowley was actually starting to wonder if the boy's soul had really been stuffed back in there without any of them noticing. There was certainly some kind of emotion in those hazel eyes that hadn't been there before, even if the demon couldn't quite discern what it was.

"I believe it hurt his feelings to see you walk away from your brother after he'd so painstakingly gone through the effort of bringing you back to him." And ah, but was that a tiny bit of jealousy that he caught in the spark of the giant's eyes? Interesting.

"Did. It. _Hurt_ him." Sam snarled, finally turning cold angry eyes to glare at him.

"His fluffy flappers were a tad singed, yes." Crowley watched with genuine amusement as something very close to mild concern crawled its way into the hunter's face before it was once more wiped clean of emotion.

"And how do you know all this?" Finally, there came that cold intelligence he'd come to admire in the soulless beast. Crowley met Sam's hazel eyes without blinking, "Were you already BFFs by then, or did you steal his diary?"

He scoffed, letting out an amused chuckle at the idea, "You're not serious." His grey eyes gleamed, predatory and snake-like, "I was merely watching," He finished his glass and walked back to his expensive assortment of alcohol. He arched his eyebrows, meeting the hunter's glare, "From a distance," Sam huffed a laugh and Crowley went back to pouring himself a glass of his favorite scotch. "I didn't actually approach him until he was given the ultimatum."

"And how did you find him?" Crowley rolled his eyes.

"I would think the answer would be obvious," He let the hunter glare at him for a moment before giving him a smug smile, "Come on, mate, it's not that hard."

Sam's eyes darkened, but his lips quirked in the little smirk that made him so frightening an enemy now—for anyone who wasn't himself or an angel, anyway.

"He was watching Dean play house."

"Correct."

"Of course." Crowley might have liked that condescending grin if he could have found it in himself to like the brat at all. Which would never happen. He'd actually come to prefer working with the eldest. Easier to manipulate, more issues to work with…especially now that the alternative was a bad version of the terminator.

"Well," He grinned, "Not that this hasn't been an enlightening chat…for you, at least," He tightened his psychic grip on the hunter's throat as he spoke, not letting him forget his position, "But I'm afraid I don't have as much free time as I used to," He sighed dramatically, "Satan forbid, I actually miss Armageddon." He was almost certain that Sam would have rolled his eyes if his face weren't going red from lack of oxygen. "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot humanity's unpractical need for air," He flicked a finger and Sam took a loud gulp of air, his lungs starving for oxygen. Maybe with a little luck there'd been some brain damage and he wouldn't have to deal with the giant dope anymore. Wishful thinking, of course, as the hunter was glaring heatedly at him while he took precious lungfuls of air. "Why don't you get comfortable up on the wall for a while, socialize with the furniture. I'm sure your brother will be back to keep you company soon."

The corner of Crowley's lips quirked up when Sam realized that he wasn't going to let him down any time soon. But he really _was_ too busy to stay and look at him struggle, so he raised his glass and winked, "Ciao."

* * *

><p>As soon as Crowley disappeared, Sam gave one last attempt to free himself before giving up. Great. Now he was stuck there until the demon got bored of seeing him spend the time as a spot on his expensive wallpaper.<p>

He let his head fall back against the wall with a sigh. This emotion thing was getting extremely frustrating, and now that he knew the reason why it was happening in the first place, he wasn't sure what to think.

Despite his sudden interest in the Castiel, he had always been _Dean's_ angel, not Sam's. Sure, they'd become close friends eventually, but Sam had always known that they didn't share the same…_profound bond_ that Cas and his brother shared. Despite this, Cas had become sort of a best friend for Sam, someone he could rely on outside of his immediate family. He hadn't really had _friends_ since Dean had gotten him at Stanford, and befriending Castiel had been a source of relief for the old soulful Sam.

Thinking back to their first reunion with Cas since he'd jumped into the Pit, Sam wondered if even after being rescued from Hell too, the angel still shared a stronger bond with his brother. He certainly hadn't come back with any mysterious handprints on his person, but Sam had always suspected that that had been a result of Cas holding Dean's _soul_ and pulling it back out into the living realm—which he apparently hadn't been able to do in Sam's case.

The tingling emotion in his chest let him know that his jealousy was setting in again.

Had he felt like this before losing his soul? He tried to think back to the times when he'd felt more like a third wheel than part of the team. At the time, he'd been convinced that the one he was jealous of was _Cas, _for suddenly being closer to Dean than he was. But now that he thought about it (without his crippling love for Dean getting in the way)…he was jealous of his _brother_.

Dean had made a friend.

In a way, it was like he'd managed the impossible for them. The Winchesters didn't have _friends_. They had _family. _And now, here came an awkward angel in a trench coat and changed the rules by becoming his brother's best friend.

The funny thing was, Dean probably hadn't realized what that meant. He'd just known that Cas was becoming someone he trusted, which, in Dean-terms, was something like becoming part of the family. Dean didn't know how to have friends, so he'd made Cas his brother. Although for all the concern that Dean had showed towards Cas lately, anyone would think the angel was really nothing more than his punching bag. But that was really because his brother was being bitter and childish because Cas couldn't always be with him anymore, so he threw tantrums and spit in his face whenever the angel _could_ make it down here.

Why Cas hadn't given up on his brother yet, Sam would never know. Although the fact that he hadn't probably meant that the poor bastard didn't have that many friends to begin with and was trying to keep Dean (with Sam and Bobby included) alive at all costs. Which fell down to dealing with Dean's bitchiness, Sam's soullessness and Bobby's grouchiness. He almost felt bad for the angel.

In fact, he _did_. Which kind of pissed him off at the moment.

A deep snarl broke him out of his reverie, and Sam suddenly remembered Crowley's hellhounds. He could only hear one of them growl though, which meant that was probably the only one around.

It wasn't like _he _was much of a threat at the moment, so Sam frowned and searched the dark room for anything that could have alarmed Castiel's watchdog.

Of course, Sam was well aware that if something _did_ break in, they were both totally screwed. Cas for one could barely move without falling off the couch—plus, he was unconscious—, and _Sam _was demonically pinned to the wall like a fucking _butterfly_, so he wasn't any good either.

He could hear the sound of wing beats coming from outside. Fucking _big_ wing beats unlike anything he'd heard before. Craning his neck to look at the window, he made out big shadowy wings that were nothing like the ones he'd seen from angels.

There were no feathers, in fact they looked more like giant bat wings.

He paused.

…_Batman?_

Suddenly, the huge bat-like wings folded into themselves until they disappeared, and out in the balcony stood a human-shaped figure in black. Sam was just trying to come to terms with the fact that he'd just seen a dragon—an honest to God _dragon_—because it couldn't be anything else. And soulless or not, that's bound to be at _least_ a little surprising. Pulling himself out of this unusual state of surprise—he was truly curious about the new creature that had flown into Crowley's window, but he knew he had to focus—Sam watched carefully as the dragon placed his hand on the doorknob and ripped it off, slowly pushing the glass door open.

The hellhound's snarls were pretty loud at this point, and after the thing started barking loudly Sam couldn't help but hope that the rest of the pack would hear it and come to keep the dragon at bay.

But there was only _one_ hellhound, and the dragon merely glared down at it for a moment before smiling.

_Oh yeah, we are _so_ screwed._

From what he could hear, the dog had lunged at the monster, but as soon as it touched him, it let out a high-pitched whine, and the smell of burnt flesh attacked Sam's nostrils. The hellhound was thrown across the room and against the wall, where it slid to the floor and whined in pain for a moment before going quiet.

When he looked back at the dragon, the thing was walking with too much confidence towards Castiel, who had apparently woken up from all the noise and was looking around, alarmed.

"Hey!" Sam called, trying to deflect the dragon's attention from the angel. It wasn't what he would normally do, to be honest, but something told him that whatever the dragon wanted from the angel would only hurt them all in the long run. "That's breaking an entering, dude. Mommy never teach you manners?"

The dragon's yellow eyes gleamed in the low lighting of the room, and Sam found himself fixed under the stare of yet another ancient being. Apparently dragons were old, no big news there. "My _Mother_ wants me to keep your angel out of the game for a little while."

Well, that definitely didn't sound good.

Castiel had by then managed to push himself up into a sitting position, but Sam could see that what little sleep he had gotten had not been enough to heal him completely, probably not enough to use his mojo either.

The dragon was pushed roughly over the coffee table and slammed his head against the leg of an armchair.

Okay. Maybe enough to use some angel mojo.

Sam would have to think twice before playing with the wounded angel again.

"Sam," The angel rasped, "W-what are you doing on the wall?" Great. Judging from the way Cas was swaying a bit as he struggled to his feet, he was probably seeing double. It was like drunk Cas all over again—and now that he thought about it, maybe that was another way Sam could get away with playing for a bit without Cas being wounded.

"Your BFF Crowley thought it would be fun," he smiled without humor, "Do you have the mojo to get me down?" Probably not but there was no harm in asking.

"I…" Cas didn't have much time left; he'd be passed out again in a minute. But to the angel's credit, he still lifted his hand towards him. Sam could feel Crowley's grip start lessening and tried to aid Cas by wriggling around as much as he could. But as he looked back at the angel to tell him it was working, he realized it was too much for Castiel right now. A trail of blood dribbled from his nose and, although his blue eyes had hardened with new purpose, Sam could see that he was fighting hard just to stay conscious, let alone standing.

"Cas, forget it," maybe he could get out on his own, "Just get out of here before he wakes up again."

It was too late, of course.

"I've been asleep for a long time, you know," Came the low voice of the dragon as he pushed himself up with a groan—more fitting for someone who was just waking up from a nap than someone who should be sporting a pretty nasty concussion, "I'd rather you not put me to rest until at least a few more years, angel, but thanks for the concern."

Castiel barely had time to react as the dragon lunged at him, a smaller version of the wings Sam had seen before aiding him in flying across the room and towards the angel. The glare Cas greeted the dragon with would have frozen any lesser creature to their core, but the thing barely reacted, instead taking the angel's neck in a choking hold and lifting his free hand, bringing the claw of one of his wings forward to cut his own wrist.

Sam could already see where this was going, and from the sudden fear in Cas' eyes, dragon blood was probably about as beneficial to angels as demon blood. Struggling harder to escape Crowley's phantom grip on him, he watched with no chance of helping as the dragon shoved his bleeding wrist at Castiel's mouth.

The angel struggled, trying to move his face away from the blood, but suddenly the dragon's wings spread again, darting towards Castiel's torso. When his shoulders were both stabbed by the sharp black claws, Cas was barely able to suppress a scream, too weak to hide his pain.

It was enough.

As the dragon continually twisted his claws into Castiel's shoulders, he forced his blood down the angel's gullet.

"Hey! Assclown!" Sam could almost feel relief coarse through him, but he would have rolled his eyes at Dean's loss of the element of surprise. But then again, maybe the dragon would have heard him coming anyway, so he couldn't really complain considering he was all but useless at the moment. The thought didn't sit well with him.

At least Dean didn't wait too long before shooting the guy in the back. But when the thing just made an annoyed face and stretched his back with a grunt like he'd been sitting a long time…Sam could honestly say that the disappointment he saw in Dean's face was pretty much a reflection of his own.

Hurt or not, the dragon did let go of Cas, who all but sank to his knees as soon as the monster pulled his claws from his shoulders with a sickening wet sound.

"Cas!"

The angel didn't respond, face pale an eyes wide as he kneeled on the ground. From the way he was shaking, Sam could imagine the blood was already taking effect, and the hunter felt a lurch in his chest at the thought of the angel being poisoned.

Again with the irrational feelings. This had to stop.

"She'll come get you, when it's time." The dragon said simply before walking back to the window he broke in from. With a last glance over his shoulder, the thing met Dean's eyes and grinned, which was just the right thing to do to make his brother lose his marbles—he was so easy—, then jumped. A flash of lightning blinded the hunters briefly, and by the time they looked again, the dragon was gone.

Rain started pouring through the broken window, wetting Crowley's expensive carpet and curtains. Sam eyed the wet furniture, lost in thought. The dragon's words to him echoed in his ears. They didn't make any sense.

"_My Mother wants me to keep your angel out of the game for a while."_

The dragon's mother? Another dragon? What could another dragon want with Cas? Maybe they were Raphael's allies. But why not just kill him then? He could have, if he'd wanted to. Besides, he'd said they planned on keeping Cas on the bench only temporarily, which could mean they had something in store for the angel.

"Cas, hey! Hey, come on, man, look at me." Dean's voice brought him out of his reverie, and he looked at the angel to find his brother kneeling in front of him, holding his shoulders and trying to shake him out of his shock. The angel's eyes seemed glazed with something like pain, his breaths coming out in ragged rasps and his face even paler than before.

* * *

><p>"Will someone please explain to me <em>why <em>my house always ends up looking like a bloody mess whenever you two decide to pay a visit?"

Dean ignored the demon in favor of trying to get a response from Cas. The angel was shaking like a leaf, his knuckles white as they clung to the rug.

The only time he'd seen the angel look anything close to this terrified had been when he had saved them from Pestilence. Seeing Castiel fall to his knees, coughing until a small trail of blood dribbled from his mouth, Dean's heart had stopped in his chest at the look in the angel's eyes when he'd glanced up to face Pestilence's mockery.

He'd looked like a child.

And, looking at the angel now, Dean couldn't help but reminisce back to that moment. It was morbidly similar. Cas on his knees, bloody and pale, eyes wide with utter terror. The only difference was that back then Castiel's eyes had been lucid with fear, but now they were lost and glazed over, obviously far away as seizure-like shivers raked through his body.

"Cas!" He shook him once again, moving his hands to the angel's neck and jaw to try and force him to meet his eyes. Finally, the ocean blue orbs zeroed in on him, and Dean was relieved to see a spark of recognition in them. "That's it. Come on, man, tell me what's wrong. What did he do to you? What do I do?"

"D-Dean," God, he'd never heard Cas' voice falter like that, "I—I can't—" Castiel clenched his eyes shut as another wave of pain assaulted him, his words lost in an agonized groan.

"You can't what? Come on, Cas, help me out here."

"Dean…" Blue eyes pleaded at him, "It hurts, pl—" Dean blanched, eyes wide as his best friend begged him for relief, "Dean, make it stop—_it hurts!"_

"Move." A smoky, graver-than-usual voice ordered. Dean didn't react, too shocked by the utter agony in Castiel's eyes. "I said _move_, damn it." An invisible force pushed him aside, making him land on the couch with a surprised grunt as Crowley took his place in front of Cas.

Dean watched as the demon tapped the angel's cheek to gain his attention, "Come on, angel, look at me." To his surprise, Castiel looked at Crowley with something akin to trust, the same pleading look in his eyes, "What was he? I need to know, Castiel, or I can't help you."

"D-D—" Dean pushed himself to his feet again, thinking the angel was calling him, but the words that left Cas' lips were nothing like his name, "Dragon…" he rasped, his eyes searching the demon while he struggled to get the words out, obviously hoping for Crowley to put two and two together. Dean had no idea what Cas was talking about.

But, if the way Crowley's eyes widened was anything to go by, the demon obviously did.

"Did you swallow?" Crowley's hands suddenly gripped the angel's shoulders with a desperation that surprised Dean. Castiel nodded shakily, clenching his eyes and curling into himself with another moan of pain. Dean could only guess that wasn't good. "How much? _Damn it_, angel, _how much!"_

"Eno—enough." Cas rasped ominously, his breath hitching as he managed to focus his less-intense-than-usual laser stare on Crowley, who'd let go of the angel's shoulders like he'd been burned.

Before Dean could ask what the hell they were talking about, Castiel's eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he fell limply on his side while his body started seizing.

"Cas!" Dean dropped to his knees beside the angel then glared desperately at the demon, "What are you just sitting there for? _Do something!_"

Crowley seemed to snap out of whatever shock he'd fallen into, and glared right back at the hunter. Before he could register anything else, the demon had taken hold of his wrist, and was pressing the blade of a knife to the palm of his hand.

"_Ow! What the hell!"_ He snapped, trying to pull his hand back. What was it with angels and demons slicing him up without permission? But Crowley's grip didn't relent, and Dean watched with a wide eyed glare as the demon tossed the knife to the side and dipped his finger on the blood pooling on Dean's hand. Awesome. Finger-painting.

Crowley didn't even spare him a look before moving closer to the angel. Castiel's seizing suddenly seemed more contained, which Dean imagined meant the demon was holding the angel down with his mind. With his bloodied hand, Crowley quickly drew a small sigil on Cas' forehead. Dean had never seen it before, but the effect was immediate, and the seizure gradually died down until Cas only appeared to be asleep.

No, not asleep. Unconscious.

Letting out a long breath, Crowley rudely wiped his bloodied fingers on Dean's shirt, then gave him an annoyed look.

"Make yourself useful and put him back on the couch." He said simply, not giving Dean a chance to reply as he stood up and started walking towards the liquor table while wiping the dust off his not-so-pristine-anymore suit.

Dean's eyes met Sam's, who was still hanging from the wall like an old coat or something. They both looked away at the same time, Dean to pick Cas up and move him to the sofa, Sam to look at Crowley and snap at him to let him down already.

Once Cas was set up comfortably on the expensive leather couch and Sam's feet were back on the ground, the three of them moved away from the angel to talk, but their eyes kept being drawn back to the unconscious figure.

"So," Dean finally started, forcing himself to look away from his friend and turn his glare on Crowley, "You gonna tell us what the hell just happened? Who was that freak?"

"_That_, you unobservant dolt," Crowley lifted his chin, his eyes narrowing in annoyance, "Was a dragon. Straight out of your common fairytales."

"Wait, so it was an _actual dragon_?" Dean's eyes drifted back to Cas, then to Sam, who was kind of quiet and totally pissing him off. "And what the hell was he doing here?"

"Well, if you'd bothered to pay any attention before bursting in like the usual white knight in shining armor, you would have noticed that he was force-feeding your little angel in distress some of his blood."

Dean's glare went cold, his face slipping back into his unemotional mask, "Yeah, _I get that, _Crowley," he snarled, his lip curling up in anger, "I mean what did the dragon-juice do to Cas?"

"Oh," He raised his eyebrows, unimpressed, and Dean would really like for Sam to stop being a creep and insert one of his soulless comments to distract him or he was going to stab the demon in the face. "Well, now that you put it in a coherent sentence, I'll try to give you an answer that is adequate to your intellectual coefficient, shall I?" Scratch that. Son of a bitch was going down. Sassy soulless comment or not. "Castiel has been _poisoned_, you useless sacks of meat." And wow, if Dean didn't know any better, he might have said Crowley was pissed.

"Yeah, well, I might not have been so useless if you hadn't decided you wanted to pin me on the wall like one of your cheesy portraits." Sam snapped suddenly.

_Oh look, it talks!_

"Your own fault for not keeping it in your pants," Crowley seethed, his eyes narrowing with anger.

"So wait, you mean poisoned like he's _dying_?" Dean interrupted, feeling his heartbeat start beating a samba inside his chest.

Because he and Cas hadn't had time to talk yet. Because he hadn't had time to let the angel know that he understood, that he got why he'd had to do what he'd done. That he wasn't so much mad at him as disappointed that he'd lied and pissed at himself for not thinking to ask.

Cas couldn't die.

They were supposed to work together and fix this so that the angel could go back to being his nerdy friend with wings. He wasn't allowed to die now.

Crowley eyed him for a moment as his brain freaked out on its own before sighing, "No, he's not dying," _Oh, thank God_. "At least, he _shouldn't_. Not according to what I've heard."

"Not acco—_what?_" He demanded. Because the demon didn't sound convinced enough and Dean was not taking chances on a _rumor_.

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, Crowley glared up at the two of them, as though suddenly more annoyed than usual at their height. _Well, tough, you freaking Scottish Leprechaun, start talking!_ "Look, there are few things we're taught in Demon Sunday School about angels," he started, "Only the top players get to know what few tricks we know, and even then that knowledge doesn't come cheap."

"But you knew how to keep angels out of your house. You've known how to use the sigils for a long time." Sam accused, remembering the first time they had met the demon, how Cas hadn't been able to get in.

"Yes," he admitted, "But everything else I had to research on my own."

"Get to the point, Fergy," Dean snapped.

Crowley glared at him before taking a long breath, "When I started sniffing around for ways to put an angel down, I found some scribbles about the link between pigeons and giant lizards."

"Okay. And?"

"The rumors said that th—" And that was as far as he got before a blinding blue light practically burned their eyes off without warning.

With a curse, Dean covered his eyes with his arms, hoping that Sam had done the same and that that sonuvabitch Crowley hadn't been burned to a crisp because he still had to give them a straight answer.

"Cas!" He yelled, hoping that he wouldn't open his eyes to find his friend's wings scorched all over Crowley's furniture.

The light died down, and Dean slowly lowered the barrier of his arms, dread sinking heavily in his stomach as his eyes slowly accustomed to the previous darkness of the room.

"Cas?"

Without thinking twice, he walked back towards the sofa, praying to whoever heard him that Castiel was still breathing.

What he saw stopped him in his tracks.

"What the hell?"

Crowley finally thought to finish his sentence from somewhere behind him. "It is said that the blood of a dragon…will take away from the ancient spirit of the angels."

Dean's mind struggled to make sense of what had just happened. Because lying on the sofa, still completely dead to the world and dwarfed by Jimmy's old trench coat and cheap suit…was a four-year-old child.

A child with a messy mop of black hair and a cherubic face that was marred by a pained frown even in sleep; but there was no doubt of who that little kid was.

Dean's breath caught in his throat, his mouth dry as he swallowed thickly before whispering,

"…Cas?"


	5. Pure Innocence

**A.N.** _I'm really sorry for the delay, college is really stressful this semester for some reason. I promise I'll try to get an update for all my stories during the break!_

**Disclaimer:**_ Not mine, never mine._

* * *

><p>By the time Cas opened his eyes, Dean's neck and back were sore from sitting on the coffee table for the remainder of the night, just watching the angel's small chest rise and fall with every steady breath. Apparently the poison had made his grace flare up when it took effect, which meant the wound on his side from Meg's little bitch-act and the ones on his shoulders from the dick-dragon had already healed. At least something good had come off this mess, because seeing those kinds of injuries on a four-year-old was not something Dean was ready to see.<p>

Watching quietly, Dean's chest lurched painfully when small hands reached up to rub the lull of sleep out of glazed blue eyes. The hunter waited for the little angel to wake, not sure what Cas would remember from last night.

_If he'll even remember you at all._

Crowley had _'offhandedly'_ mentioned that it was a possibility that the poison would have made Castiel's memories regress to those of when he was a fledging, but that he couldn't be sure.

_Smarmy dick._

As his young friend looked down at himself, his eyes suddenly widened, and the panic and fear Dean saw in them had him reaching out to the angel, placing a gentle hand on his narrow shoulder. Jesus, he was so small.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Cas, you're okay." He soothed him softly.

Then those eyes zeroed in on him, capturing his with the same ease as the first day they'd met. Waiting on a baited breath, Dean watched Castiel study his face before a voice, small and tentative reached his ears.

"Dean?"

He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so relieved. Letting out a long breath, Dean allowed himself to smile at the little angel, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly.

"Yeah," he swallowed the knot in his throat, "Yeah, it's me."

Wide blue eyes glanced down at the hand on his shoulder before meeting Dean's once again, and the hunter watched helplessly as the little boy's chin quivered, tears making his eyes glisten before they spilled down his pale round cheeks. Dean stopped breathing when he noticed that Cas seemed to be unable to draw a breath, his face reddening slightly before his narrow chest heaved a hitched gasp that turned into a sob, and Dean just couldn't help it anymore.

Falling to his knees in front of the couch, he pulled the little boy into his arms, his own eyes burning when thin, wiry arms clung tightly to his shoulders.

"Hey, hey," He rubbed Cas' back, wrapping his arms around the shaking child and pressed his nose to dark tufts of hair. "It's alright, Cas." He felt the angel's hold around him tighten and closed his eyes, hating the way Cas' frame shook with each quiet hiccup. "You're safe here. No one's gonna hurt you anymore, okay? I promise." And Dean could already feel his deep-seated confidence come back with a vengeance. He would not let Castiel get hurt again.

Cas pulled away slightly, and Dean looked down to see the angel staring at his wet shirt, biting his lip.

"Cas?" The angel's eyes drifted towards his briefly before going back to their staring match with Dean's chest. "You okay?" Cas seemed to think about it for a moment before shaking his head, still not meeting his eyes, "C'mon, man, I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong." No answer. Dean nudged him gently, "Talk to me?"

Shy eyes finally moved up to meet his, "I thought—" Dean had to tilt his head to make sure the kid didn't look away this time.

"You thought what?" he prompted quietly. Something told him that Cas wasn't really crying because he was afraid, or because of his little scare with the dragon. It made his stomach churn uneasily, because there was one other thing Dean could think of that could have upset the little angel so much.

"Thought you were mad at me." He admitted quietly, wide eyes looking pleadingly at him from under his eyelashes before moving down to his lap, as though waiting to be yelled at; and damn, but if that didn't make Dean feel like a complete asshole. When Dean didn't say anything, Cas started to fidget uneasily, small fingers playing with the edge of the large t-shirt Dean had changed the angel into after he'd been de-aged.

The hunter heaved a sigh and scrubbed his face tiredly, "I'm not." Castiel's eyes narrowed, looking away from his lap to fix him with one of his soul-searching stares—the one that let Dean know that he wasn't taking any of his bullshit—, it looked so strange in a face so young. The familiarity of it drew a quiet chuckle out of him though, and he raised his hands to prevent a smiting, "Okay, okay…maybe I _was_ …for a little bit." The little angel's shoulders drooped, but he nodded in acceptance, "But not anymore, kay?" He tilted his head until he caught Cas' eyes, "I'm not. I…" Dean had never been really good with apologies, but he was mature enough to admit he'd been giving Cas a hard time all year, and his friend didn't deserve that, not when he'd been dealing with such a mess by himself. "I get why you did it, Cas." He shrugged self-consciously, uncomfortable with the chick-flicky level that the conversation had reached.

Castiel's eyes watched him carefully, probably reading his soul to make sure that he wasn't trying to pull one on him. Apparently he'd been sincere enough, though, because the little angel gave a firm nod before relaxing, as though a huge load had just been lifted off his chest. And it probably had. Cas had never liked lying (not to mention that he sucked at it—and it said something of how distracted Dean had been that he hadn't even noticed); Dean could only imagine how hard it must have been for his friend to keep this from him.

"Thank you."

It was so weird, for such a formal tone to come from such a small child. _Only Cas._ Giving in to instinct, Dean smiled and ruffled the kid's already messy mop of dark hair. To his amusement, Cas only frowned in confusion, going practically cross-eyed in his attempt to look up at Dean's hand.

Even he could admit to himself that the angel was kind of adorable like this. Not that he would ever say it out loud.

"And so, the elder Winchester finally pulls his head out of his arse. How touching." Dean rolled his eyes and sent a glare at Crowley, who stood a few ways behind them with a glass of his precious scotch, that ever-present smirk quirking the corner his lips upwards. Turning his eyes back to Cas, Dean gave him a quick smile before picking him up and placing him back on the couch.

Castiel blinked, obviously not used to being manhandled so easily. Dean snorted and pushed himself to his feet, grimacing as his knees popped. "We should get you some clothes, Cas. Can't wear the accountant getup when you're that tiny." Seemingly over his surprise, the angel frowned at him with mild annoyance before staring down accusingly at the t-shirt he was wearing.

"Already taken care of." Dean swiveled around, eyebrows at his hairline. Crowley nodded towards a neatly folded pile of clothes that hadn't been lying on the coffee table before, "While you were brooding and watching our winged little kitten sleep," Dean scowled, "I took the liberty of finding a more appropriate attire than your…distasteful t-shirt."

Eyeing the demon suspiciously, Dean leaned down to take a better look at the clothing. Everything was so small; it was weird as hell to think that Cas was that size now. What was perhaps even weirder still, though, was the fact that they were actually…pretty normal clothes. Dean would have expected tacky, expensive little suits. Pulling out a plain blue t-shirt and a tiny pair of jeans, Dean looked up at Crowley with a questioning eyebrow.

The demon scowled, obviously knowing what he was hinting at, "If you were expecting I dress the fledging like me, I'm sorry to disappoint. What is he, three? Four? At least I have some manner of fashion sense. Unlike some."

Dean snorted, "Whatever moves your furniture, man."

"So he's awake." Sam's voice made Dean tense and straighten up completely, his grip on Cas' new clothes tightening as he heard the angel whisper Sam's name behind him. "Good, then we can figure out what to do next."

Sam leaned against the doorframe, watching Castiel with interest. The memory of what the monster walking around as his brother had tried to do to their friend was still branded into Dean's brain. "Sure thing, Saminator, but you keep your distance." He said in a deceptively light tone, his eyes glaring coldly at the younger hunter.

With a scornful huff, Sam raised his hands as a sign of peace and walked over to the liquor table. "So what, I'm a pedophile now?"

"Not taking any chances." Dean grumbled, not noticing the way Crowley was also keeping a watchful eye on the younger Winchester. Deciding that his brother probably wouldn't try anything (at least not so soon after being caught, it gave Dean chills just to think about), the hunter turned his back on him and looked down at Castiel.

The angel was watching his brother with his head tilted to the side, wide blue eyes curious and soul-searching—_Not gonna find anything there, buddy_—…but above all, an innocence that was even more accentuated than it had been in Cas' eyes before he'd been downsized. An innocence that Dean feared would make Castiel forget that Sam couldn't be trusted like this.

Maybe Cas' mind wasn't as clear as he'd thought. There wasn't any obvious sign of fear in his eyes, which could only mean he'd forgotten Sam's attempt to harass him hours ago.

As though feeling his stare, blue eyes blinked up to look at him, and Dean felt a rush of fondness swell in his chest. Damn cute idiot had upped the power of his puppy eyes and now there was no way Dean would be able to stay mad at him. Great.

With a tired sigh, Dean glanced down at the clothes he still clutched in a white-knuckled grip and rubbed his face with his free hand. "C'mon, Cas. You may be healed, but you look like a mess."

And it was true. Despite the fact that his wounds had been healed, Cas' pale skin was still caked with dried blood and sweat. The little angel quirked his head to the side, and Dean couldn't help but smile sadly at the familiar action. "Yep. Bath time, buddy."

"And _I'm_ the pedophile." He heard Sam snort somewhere in the background. Dean's jaw tightened at the taunt, but he ignored him and helped Cas down from the sofa. As though moved by instinct, Castiel curled his little hand on Dean's pant leg, latching tightly onto the coarse fabric of his jeans. Placing a gentle hand on the back of Castiel's head, Dean glanced at the demon in askance, who nodded towards one of the doors of the room.

"Second to your right."

"Thanks." He offered gruffly before guiding the little angel out of the room.

* * *

><p>"So," Dean started as he sat down on the couch with a full glass of scotch. Might as well. "Cat's outta the bag, your plan's out in the open. But Cas is a kid now, so you have no one to share the soul-load with, no way you can handle all the juice of Purgatory on your own." Castiel sat quietly next to him, shiny blue eyes following whoever talked around the room. He looked like a normal kid, wearing a pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt; it was hard to get used to.<p>

"Certainly seems that way," Crowley sat on an armchair across from them, dark eyes lost in thought but still somewhat fixed on the little angel.

Dean narrowed his eyes, but didn't comment, "But what about Raphael then?" he turned to Sam, who met his eyes and shrugged, "I mean, Cas can't fight him anymore, and he was the leader of the rebellion against him, right?"

Damn Sam and his cold mind. Dean was having trouble getting past _'Holy shit, Cas is a kid, I saw a dragon, what the hell is going on!'_.

"Yeah," he sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly, "Should probably warn whoever's on his side that their sheriff is gonna be out of commission for a while." He turned green eyes back to the demon, "You sure you don't know a way to reverse this?"

Crowley finally looked at him, raising his chin, obviously annoyed, "Has it escaped your notice the fact that my plan is worth _nothing_ with Blue Eyes turned back into a toddler? Give me _one_ good reason why I would find it beneficial to keep him like this." His hissed.

Well, at least he wasn't yelling. For all his sassy, sarcastic comments, the demon sure liked to go red in the face with anger when he thought they were being exceptionally obtuse. Which was actually kind of weird, it was almost like he was forcing himself _not_ to yell. Frowning in confusion, he gave Crowley a _'What's up your ass now?'_ look, to which the demon responded with a roll of his eyes and a less than discreet nod towards the small angel in the room.

Raising his eyebrows, Dean looked down at Castiel, who was apparently distracted with the seams of the leather couch. The little guy was just intently examining the expensive fabric as though he'd never seen anything like it before, just running his tiny fingers over the leather, completely entranced.

It was then that Dean realized that maybe they were dealing with more than a little memory loss from recent events. Castiel was truly acting like a child, like…like a child that had never been to the real world before. And while he obviously remembered who Sam and Dean were, and that the hunter had been upset with him before, for all intents and purposes, little Castiel had never been to Earth before. It was no wonder things were all mixed up in his mind. Poor kid's head was probably a mess.

"Hey, Cas?" The angel's eyes were on his immediately; wide, blue, and so innocent it made something in Dean's chest hurt. "You uh…you hungry?"

Cas tilted his head to the right and blinked, "Hungry?"

Dean smiled, nervous but genuine, "Yep. You haven't tried a lot of human food, have ya?"

The little angel shook his head and looked down with a frown, as though trying to remember, "Burgers. I like burgers." He announced.

A quiet chuckle left Dean's lips without permission. It had been fun watching Cas devour burger after burger. Until Famine had tossed him a tray of raw meat and watched him shove it in his mouth like a hungry dog. Dean noted with regret that he'd never asked Cas if it had made him sick at all.

"That you do. But there's a lot of other stuff you haven't tried." He glanced at Crowley, "Maybe Crow-Crow over there can give us some good food for you to try."

Crowley glared at him, but Castiel had turned to look at him now, and so the demon rolled his eyes and looked somewhere to Dean's right. A short whistle and Dean suddenly heard the low groan of a dog, seemingly stretching after lying down for a long time. Needless to say he may have jumped a bit. Stupid hellhounds.

"Will you show our little fledging to the kitchens, love?"

Dean raised his eyebrows. Seriously? The hellhound?

But before he could complain, he felt the warmth of a _gigantic_ animal walk past him to stop in front of Cas. There was some sniffling, and then a snort that blew back Cas' untamed dark hair. Cas wrinkled his nose, and leaned back slightly, not so much scared as confused. Finally, there was a wet sound, and a long sticky patch appeared along Castiel's round cheek, making Dean grimace. Then the unthinkable happened.

Cas giggled.

Dean watched wide-eyed, his brain completely frozen as the tiny angel smiled and pushed the offending dog's muzzle away from him before squirming his way off the sofa. Now standing, Cas patted the dog (_hellhound_)'s flank (or maybe its neck, he couldn't be sure)—awkwardly, like a child dealing with animals for the first time, palm flat and fingers spread wide.

Swallowing his shock, Dean cleared his throat and forced a smile, "Alright then, uh…" He glanced at Sam and for the millionth time that day wished he still had his soul. This was the kind of thing Sam would be better at dealing with. But his brother was merely watching the little spectacle with curiosity, his eyes almost soft. "I guess Lassie will take you for a snack." He heard Crowley huff indignantly at the name and ignored it, "Don't eat too much though, I'll be there in a few. Kay?"

Castiel nodded, then suddenly looked to the side. He stared intently into space (or at the hellhound) before nodding again. Blinking in confusion, Dean sat and watched as Cas waited for a second before clumsily swinging his leg over some invisible barrier, tiny fists clutching onto something he couldn't see.

Then he was lifted over Dean's height. _Lifted._ Smart little bastard was _riding_ a friggen' _hellhound_. Crowley scoffed, shaking his head and looking down to hide a smile that Dean had already seen.

"Fluffy little bugger had my pups smitten from the very first day. I don't know what it is about him." Something in the way the demon's eyes became absent for a second, however, made Dean think otherwise.

Filing it away for future reference, Dean ignored the demon in favor of smiling at Castiel, who was petting the large demonic beast he was hitching a ride with while holding on tightly with his free hand. Once again, the angel seemed completely taken with the feel of new texture under his hands. With a sigh, he reached up and patted the angel's back lightly, bringing blue eyes back to his.

"Alright, buddy. I'll be there in a sec."

Castiel nodded then turned around to look at Sam. His brother met the little angel's eyes and waved, which brought a scowl to Dean's face. What sort of broke his heart though, was that Cas tilted his head, looked down at his hand and then tried to mirror Sam's gesture. Sam smirked, and a tiny, shy smile quirked Castiel's lips upward before he looked down and patted the hellhound. The hound finally carried him out of the room, and Dean watched with a frown as Castiel's floating figure disappeared through one of the doors.

With a sigh, he rubbed his face, then turned to Crowley, "Okay, so what's wrong with him?"

"Other than the obvious, you mean." Crowley deadpanned. At Dean's glare, the demon rolled his eyes and adjusted his posture, leaning back on his armchair more comfortably. "Alright, I'll try to put this in terms that even you two meatheads can understand." He took a long drink, his eyes thoughtful as if lost in memory, "Castiel is now, essentially, a fledging. An angel toddler." He sighed, "Angels that young are pure in every sense of the word." He raised his eyebrows, "Pure innocence."

Dean frowned, "But he still remembers us."

"Clearly. Otherwise I don't see why he'd bother with paying any attention to you." Crowley glanced at the ceiling, annoyed, "But even if he's still the Castiel you know, his understanding of…well, evil and darkness and all the ugly bits of the world is…limited. Which is probably why he didn't react accordingly to seeing Gigantor in the room. But he did remember that you were angry with him, and that must have been overwhelming for the little happy ball of light or he wouldn't have reacted so strongly. He will most likely regress back to his annoyingly absolute innocence from time to time."

"Awesome." Dean let out a long breath. "Any idea why that dragon wanted to make him part of the cast of Sesame Street?"

Crowley narrowed his eyes, and Dean had the feeling that the demon had an idea of why but wasn't going to share it so easily. "Depends. Did either of you muttonheads hear him say anything?" He turned grey eyes towards Sam, who had seen everything that had happened.

Sam shrugged, "He mentioned that his_ Mother_ wanted him to bench Cas for a while."

It didn't escape either of the hunters' notice the way Crowley's face fell. Hell, Dean could have sworn the blood had drained from his face. He shared a look with Sam, the younger hunter leaning forward, elbows on knees, to watch the demon's reaction closely as he added, "He also said that _she'd_ come get him, when it's time."

"So…any idea of _who _she is?" Dean asked slowly, watching him carefully.

Crowley pursed his lips. Oh, fucker knew who she was alright.

"You know, I think it's time you meatheads took your feathered toddler and went back to whatever measly motel you're staying in this time. Better yet, go back to your foxhole. Give Bobby a kiss for me. Ciao." And with that, he was gone.

"Fucking demons," Dean rubbed his forehead with a sigh. "Okay, let's get Cas and get out of here," he mumbled before pushing himself up to his feet. He didn't look back to check if Sam was following before walking out of the room and towards where he hoped was the kitchen.

Fortunately, it seemed like Sam was lost somewhere up in that big soulless brain of his, so he wasn't making any smart remarks about Crowley ditching them. Hopefully Bobby would be able to help them out with that one.

* * *

><p>Eventually he found the kitchen and his shoulders sagged with relief. Muttering a tired '<em>Finally' <em>under his breath, he walked in, "Okay, Cas, we're ditching this place to go visit Uncle Bobby, c'mon." He clapped his hands, looking around for the little angel. "Cas?"

A quiet growl made him frown, starting to feel worry build up in his stomach he rounded the marble bar (seriously, why does a demon need such an expensive kitchen? Especially considering it's attached to an abandoned psych ward. Eurgh) to find a mess of open packages and spilled food and a little angel curled up by the fridge. Cas looked, for all intents and purposes, like a normal kid. With his stained little shirt, his dirty, sticky fingers and his cheeks all smeared with something that looked like chocolate.

Dean couldn't help the smile that quirked his lips up, or the way a knot in his chest loosened at the innocent and vulnerable look on his friend's face.

"Well, look at you." He said quietly, letting out a chuckle as he stepped up to Castiel, "Guess we're gonna play it human for a little while, buddy." He crouched in front of him and leaned closer to try and pick him up.

He was interrupted by a deep-throated growl that almost made him fall back on his ass.

Fucking hellhounds.

With a glare at where he could only guess the stupid thing was, Dean snarled quietly, "Daddy's gone you ugly bitch, so take a hike, you're not needed anymore." There was a muted groan that Dean chose to take as surrender, and the hunter slowly reached for the little angel again; this time without interruptions.

With a relieved sigh, he carefully picked Cas up, placing him carefully against his chest. The little guy only frowned slightly in his sleep before nuzzling Dean's shoulder and calming down with a quiet breath.

Son of a bitch was too adorable. This wasn't fair.

As he watched Castiel's calm regular breathing, Dean couldn't help but dread what would happen if his friend got a moment of lucidity back. What Cas had been going through for the past year wasn't something the mind of a creature so new and pure would be able to handle easily.

Giving in to impulse, he pressed his lips to the soft tufts of dark hair and whispered, "It's gonna be okay, Cas. I'm gonna fix this."


	6. Scarred Vessel

**A.N. **_I AM SO TERRIBLY SORRY! Go ahead and throw your rotten tomatoes at me, the only excuse I have is that it's hard to write after Cas has been gone for so long. Hopefully now that [SPOILER] I know he's coming back I'll get rid of my writer's block with all my Supernatural fics. And the Heaven's Split in Two will be updated soon too! For those who read it. Anyway, enjoy!_

**A.N.2.** _The last scene is mostly canon, verbatim from the episode. Changed a couple of details. Please read and review!__  
><em>

* * *

><p>"So you mean to tell me that you went in to kill Crowley, with that demon <em>Meg<em> as backup, and she turned on you and stabbed _Cas_ with his own sword." Bobby deadpanned, glaring down at Sam as the younger hunter sat down on his couch.

Sam merely looked up at him and shrugged, "Pretty much."

"And I'm supposed to be surprised by that turn of events, considering what a _stupid_ idea it was in the first place?" The old man snarled. If he didn't know better, Bobby would have thought the boys were touching stupid bordering on suicidal.

A frown set deep on Bobby's brow when Sam shook his head, "Nah." He leaned back, "You're supposed to be surprised by what's wrong with Cas." He said it so calmly, as though it didn't matter at all, that it took a few seconds for his words to sink in.

"Cas? Wait, he's still hurt?" He asked, hiding worry behind annoyance. That dumb angel had a tendency to get hurt in the boys' stead whenever they took him along on one of their reckless stunts.

Sam didn't answer, only nodded towards the front door as Dean finally brought in their bags and stepped into the living room…Followed by a little boy with dark hair and wide blue eyes that stuck close to the hunter while he stared at his surroundings, completely entranced.

_Balls._

Dean dropped his bags and muttered a tired greeting, rubbing the exhaustion off his eyes with both hands. Meanwhile Bobby stared at the little boy with his mouth agape. Finally noticing he was being watched, Castiel—because there was no doubt who that little boy was—met Bobby's eyes.

After a brief staring match, the little angel finally tilted his head to the side.

"Balls!" Bobby cursed out loud, now completely sure of just who was standing in front of him.

Suddenly shy, Castiel hid behind Dean's leg, one small hand clutching at the hunter's jeans.

Slightly taken aback by the boy's bashfulness, Bobby finally looked up at Dean, who he found already staring back at him with amusement in his green eyes.

"Yup. My thoughts exactly." He chuckled before looking down at the little boy. "Hey, it's just Uncle Bobby, Cas, c'mon." The old hunter glared at Dean, which earned him a cheeky grin from the younger man. Bringing their attention back to the angel, Bobby had to make an effort not to smile as one big blue eye peeked up at him from behind Dean's thigh.

"It's okay, son," His eyes softened slightly when the child finally stepped away from behind Dean. Glancing briefly at Sam, Bobby noticed the amusement in those cold eyes, but chose not to think too much about it. At least not right now. "You remember who I am, boy?" He finally asked.

"Bobby." Cas' voice was far from its usual deep gravel pitch, but the confidence and honesty were still there.

"That's right." He allowed himself to smile, pleasantly surprised to see the little angel smile shyly back at him. Looking back at Dean, he raised a questioning eyebrow, "Now, are either of you gonna explain to me what happened?"

* * *

><p>Dean drained his scotch in record time, sitting across from Bobby at his desk. The older man was pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to take in everything that the hunter had told him.<p>

"Mother." He finally looked at Dean, "You're sure he said _Mother._"

"Why, does it ring a bell?" the younger man asked, "I'm pretty sure Crowley knows who she is," Dean huffed, "Guy went white as a sheet when Sam mentioned Mommy Dragon was coming for a visit."

"I'm not sure he meant Mommy Dragon, I can tell you that much." Dean frowned.

"What do you mean?" With a sigh, Bobby leaned back on his chair and readjusted his cap.

"I don't know…" He finally replied, shaking his head, "I think I might have read somethin'…but I'll have to check again."

"Well, that's more than I was hoping for so thanks." Dean forced a brief smile before glancing over at Sam.

He and Cas were sitting on the carpeted floor, a couple of old books and manuscripts spread out in front of them. Sam would point at some symbol and Cas would wrinkle his little nose before finally telling the gigantic man beside him what it meant. For all that Dean disliked the thought of the two of them anywhere near each other, Sam seemed genuinely curious with testing Cas' knowledge.

"So," Bobby gave him a pointed look before nodding towards the two on the floor, "You leavin' me with Angel Cakes and Terminator while you go have a talk with Death?" Dean could tell he wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea. Not that he blamed him.

"Yeah…" He sighed, eying Sam with renewed suspicion. "Listen…could you keep an extra close eye on Sam? Don't leave him alone with Cas." He muttered quietly.

"Sure," Bobby narrowed his eyes, "You gonna tell me what he's done this time or…?"

Dean sent him an annoyed half-hearted glare before giving in, shaking his head. The hunter pressed his elbows to the desk and ran his hands through his hair, "Bobby, he's—" He glanced over his shoulder at his brother before meeting the old man's eyes, "I don't even know _what _he is anymore. It's not just that he has no moral standards anymore, it's—" He clenched his jaw, "He's practically sociopathic!" He hissed.

Bobby raised his eyebrows, "Because he doesn't _care?_ I thought we'd already established that."

"No, this is—" Dean sighed, the thought of talking about Sam this way tearing at something in his chest, "He's sadistic."

"Dean, we _knew _that. What did he do?" The hunter was starting to get worried. Thinking back to Dean's earlier comment made him frown, "Did he do something to Cas?"

The way Dean's features darkened was enough of an answer, and Bobby felt cold dread form in his stomach. If Sam was acting out against the angel, then there was no guarantee he wouldn't turn on Bobby—or even worse still, on Dean.

"What did he do to him, boy?" The younger man suddenly seemed uncomfortable.

It took a few minutes, but Dean finally let out a breath and admitted, "He tried to—He…molested him." Bobby blinked; it was only when Dean gave him a pointed glare that he got the hint.

"Oh." And then it sank in, and Bobby's eyes widened, "_Oh._"

"Yeah," Dean sighed, scrubbing his face, as though doing so would rid him of the memory. Bobby was almost afraid to ask; but he had to know.

"Did he—"

"Oh, no, thank _God_." Dean let out a relieved laugh that sounded more desperate than anything. "But if I hadn't walked in—" He swallowed, "Bobby, Cas could barely _move_. He was almost passed out, and Sam took advantage of that." Bobby closed his eyes, not liking the image of the helpless angel at the mercy of a soulless man. "So I need you to watch out for Cas. Don't leave him alone."

"I won't." Bobby promised. To be honest, he was relieved to see Dean show such protectiveness towards the angel. He knew how demanding Dean became when Sam was involved, and that the hunter hadn't taken any of the angel's reasons for not being there to help them as nothing but lame excuses. He himself had had to put the boys back in their place about a month back when they'd kept on piling their demands on him. God knew Castiel was too busy—and on a whole different level too—to deal with Dean's quest to get Sam's soul. And yet the angel still came down when he could.

It seemed like everything that had happened to the angel in the past hours had finally made Dean realize how much of a whiny idjit he'd been. Because Bobby loved the boy to death, but when it came to Sam, Dean had a tendency to forget about everything and everyone else.

"Thank you." Dean sighed, turning on his chair to look at the small angel more easily.

"He's not acting like himself," Bobby said suddenly, making Dean's green eyes dart back to meet his. The old hunter nodded towards the angel, "Not exactly, anyway. He's…shy." He frowned, deep in thought, "And you'd have thought he'd be more scared of Sam after what you told me."

"Yeah," Bobby could tell Dean had already thought about that, and that he didn't like it one bit. "Crowley said Cas' mind is…well, a bit of a mess." Bobby narrowed his eyes, but the boy was already staring at the little angel, lost in thought, "Apparently baby angels—or _fledgings_, or whatever—, they're completely pure; they don't understand evil yet." The look on Dean's eyes could almost be considered wistful.

"But he recognizes us." Bobby pointed out.

"Right." Dean sighed, "Which I guess means some of his memories are still there, so he should know something about the war and Raphael and his goons and all that…" They both looked at the small boy. Cas had taken a marker from Sam and was drawing symbols on a blank piece of paper, the tip of a pink tongue peeking out from between his lips as he concentrated fully on his task. "But he doesn't understand much if any of it. Hell, he seems to be BFF's with _Sam_, and I know that's not how he felt when Sam tried to—" Dean broke off, clenching his jaw. Not that he needed to finish the sentence for Bobby to know what he was talking about. "Bobby, he was _scared_." Dean suddenly turned to meet Bobby's eyes, and there was a desperation, a fear in them that the older man didn't like one bit. "I've rarely seen Cas show an ounce of fear, except maybe with Pestilence and Lucifer. Hell, even when we trapped Raphael he managed to keep a decent poker face but _this_…" Dean shook his head, "Bobby, he looked _terrified_."

Under different circumstances, Bobby might have said something like, _'Can ya blame him?'_ but he himself was pretty shaken with the revelation. He remembered the way Castiel had faltered after throwing a molotov of holy fire at Michael, when Lucifer turned towards them, eyes blazing with anger. Needless to say, the image of the angel literally _exploding_ right in front of him was one he'd never be rid of.

After a moment of silence, Bobby finished his scotch, "I got you an appointment for tomorrow mornin'." He informed Dean, still not happy with the hunter's plan to call Death. "You should try get some sleep, you look like crap."

Not waiting for a response and ignoring the boy's glare, Bobby stood with a groan and took his and Dean's glasses to the kitchen.

* * *

><p>Dean wandered at the edge of sleep for maybe two hours before he decided that he wouldn't be getting any more rest that night. With a heavy sigh, he sat up on the couch and grimaced. Stretching his back, his bones fell back into place with a few satisfying popping noises, and the hunter let his shoulders sag.<p>

He knew he needed to rest, but the thought of maybe finding a way to bring Sam—his Sam—back wasn't letting him relax. Rubbing his face tiredly, he gave up on even pretending to sleep and dragged his feet out of the old couch.

With a loud yawn, he made his way to the bathroom, already trying to calculate how many cups of coffee he could manage to drink before Bobby came down and grouched at him to leave his caffeine supply alone.

It was on his way to the kitchen that his muddled thoughts were interrupted by a sound. Pausing, Dean frowned and tilted his head towards the source, not quite sure of what he'd heard.

There it was.

If he'd had more hours of sleep under his belt, Dean would have immediately recognized the sound for what it was. All in all, he stood there an embarrassingly long amount of time with a stupid look on his face before it finally registered.

A whimper.

Suddenly, the memory of Cas being turned into a defenseless kid slammed back into his head. Which was just fantastic for his already massive headache.

Bobby had put the little angel to sleep in the guest room on the first floor. And with a sinking feeling of dread, Dean realized that Sam wasn't anywhere around.

_He wouldn't_.

Dean's heart threatened to punch its way out of his chest as he hurried towards the guest room, praying to whatever deity heard him that his brother wasn't molesting the _four-year-old_ they'd brought to Bobby's house.

Mumbling curses under his breath, Dean had to force himself not to kick the door in once he reached the room. Because, one, Bobby would kill him; and two, if Sam wasn't there, it could get real awkward, real fast.

Almost tempted to close his eyes on opening the door, Dean took a peek inside.

Sam wasn't there.

The hunter let out a long breath, feeling part of his worry already start fading.

But then Cas whimpered again, and Dean actually took the time to look at the little angel. Stepping inside and closing the door behind him, Dean slowly walked closer to the bed.

The boy was writhing in his sleep—and it was scary enough that Cas needed sleep to begin with—tiny hands fisted tightly near his face while he curled up more into a little ball. He tried to make out what the angel was saying, but it was mostly Enochian.

"Bahram…" Cas whispered, the fear and confusion in his voice tearing at Dean's chest, "Luel…Tamael?" The sadness in the little angel's voice was too much, and the hunter reached out to shake his friend awake.

Then Castiel's breath hitched and the little angel froze. For a long frightening moment, Dean couldn't even be sure if Cas was going to draw another breath at all. "Cas?" In his worry, his voice faltered, barely making it over a whisper, not loud enough for Castiel to wake.

He finally touched the little angel's shoulder, and Dean's frown deepened as he noticed just how much Castiel was shaking. "Cas, wake up." He prodded, starting to get nervous. "Wake up, it's just a dream." His voice was back to normal, but still the angel didn't wake, and Dean wondered if maybe he'd been pulled into a nightmare by one of his dick brothers.

Finally, Castiel whispered a name in a small shaky voice, fear so deeply imbedded in it that it could only come from years of trauma.

"Raphael."

And that was the final straw. Feeling his dread escalate, Dean took hold of the boy's shoulders and shook him firmly. "Cas! It's not real, it's just a dream."

Blue eyes snapped open, wide and full of fright. The angel's breath hitched in his chest once again as he tried to move away from the loud voice, from the hands on his arms.

"Hey! Hey, it's just me, Cas." Dean soothed, loosening his hold on the child but not letting go. Green eyes searched blue, and it took a worrisome amount of time for recognition and relief to light up their depths.

"Dean?"

"That's right buddy, just me. You were having a nightmare, okay? Just a bad dream."

"Bad dream…" Castiel repeated, looking down at himself, then at Dean's hands on him, then meeting his eyes once again. "Not real?"

Dean forced a smile for the confused boy, "Not real." He slowly let go of Cas and sat on the edge of the bed. "You wanna tell me what you were dreaming about?" Because the angel may not understand the situation completely just yet, but he'd been leading a war for months now. Part of his subconscious was bound to feel the toll that the battle had taken on him.

Cas swallowed and sat up; bringing a hand to rub what little sleep he'd gotten out of his eyes. It was such a heartbreakingly childish gesture that Dean felt his protectiveness over the small angel flare.

"Raphael," He said, and his face scrunched up in confusion as he thought back on his horrible dream, "We were hiding." And Dean could see Cas wasn't entirely sure why, "He found us. He hurt them." Cas' blue eyes suddenly zeroed in on him, and Dean hid a grimace at the silent question in them.

"Hurt who?" Although Dean already had a pretty good idea.

"Bahram, Luel," His voice grew quieter with every word, smaller, "Tamael?" He could see the hope in those eyes; the pleading. _Please tell me it's not true_.

Those were angel names.

_I'm so sorry, Cas._

And it seemed like, fledging or not, Castiel could still read him like a book. Those guileless blue eyes widened, truly shocked at the truth they found in his. Dean saw a confusion and sadness in them that had no right existing in the eyes of a child. Cas really didn't understand how his brother could do something like that.

"Why?" And that was the question, wasn't it? Why would an angel kill his own brothers? His family? People he'd known for millennia? Dean couldn't think of anything that would make him kill his own family. But the nagging thought that he'd pushed to the back of his mind ever since Cas had joined them had now fought its way to the frontline.

Because Cas had killed his brothers too.

And he had killed them because Dean had asked.

He hadn't even really thought about it until Cas had saved him and Sam from Zachariah. When that pompous asshat had given him stomach cancer, and taken away Sam's lungs.

But the look of horror in Zachariah's face when Castiel had appeared out of nowhere and stabbed his brothers through the neck without a second thought; _that_ had thrown him off. He'd at first put it off as Zachariah being surprised that Cas was alive and hadn't given it much thought after that.

But then…

"_I killed two angels this week. Those were my brothers. I'm hunted, I rebelled, and I did it, all of it, for _you._"_

Now _that_ had sent the point home—if only for a little while. But Cas had done it so easily, without faltering, without hesitation or any apparent regret afterwards that Dean had just assumed.

_It's not the same. They're not like Sam; it's not the same_.

However, looking now at the confused fledging who had frozen in horrified shock at the mere idea of his big brother Raphael killing other angels, Dean wasn't so sure. And with that little venomous seed already planted deep inside his brain, Dean had to wonder how Cas hadn't lost his mind with grief in this war. A civil war against his own siblings.

_And you've been calling him down like a little girl to whine about your problems._

"Dean?" He was brought back to the present by a small voice and wide, teary eyes.

"I don't know, Cas." He answered regretfully. Dean wished he had a better answer than that, but he couldn't say he understood the workings of an archangel's mind, set on starting the apocalypse.

The little angel sniffed, but he didn't shed a tear, something that worried Dean as much as it made something like pride swell in his chest.

"You should go back to sleep." Cas shook his head firmly.

"I don't want to dream." And Dean could only smile sadly at that.

_You and me both, kid._

"I'll stay here with you." He offered. Because scared or not, the boy looked exhausted.

"You won't leave?" Puppy blue eyes looked up to meet his, and Dean knew he was screwed.

"I won't leave." He promised anyway. And it was kind of worth it, to see Castiel offer him a shy smile before wriggling back under the covers as he lied down again. Memories of his little brother when he was about the fledging's size made his smile widen, and Dean shook his head with a chuckle before moving to the other side of the bed and pulling the covers over him before settling down to try and get some sleep.

Minutes later Castiel's breathing had slowed down and the little angel was out like a light. It took Dean a little longer, but as he was finally falling into the welcome abyss of sleep, a cuddly little thing drew close to his chest. His last thought was that it was actually kinda nice.

* * *

><p>Bobby looked up from the old tome on his desk for the fifteenth time in at least ten minutes to find a certain miniature angel standing on the couch with his face glued to the window.<p>

"Ya know," He finally cleared his throat, "It's still gonna be a while before Dean gets back." Wide blue eyes turned from the glass to look at him, giving him their complete attention in a way that was definitely reminiscing of the old Castiel.

Engaging in a staring match with the young angel was almost like everything was back to normal. The only—disturbing— difference was that, this time, it was Castiel who looked away first. Glancing at the window with a small frown before finally nodding and flopping down on the couch, Castiel carefully climbed down to the floor and trotted over to Bobby.

The old hunter had to try hard not to smile at the clumsy way in which his friend moved. Clearing his throat again, he attempted to get back to his book. His focus of course didn't last long.

"Dean's with Death?" Castiel asked, tilting his head.

Bobby chuckled, "Yep. Dean's spendin' the day with Daddy Reaper today."

"Daddy Reaper." Castiel repeated, tasting the name as he touched the old wood of the desk, "And Sam?"

"That I don't know." Which was honestly not exactly a nice thought, especially considering how clearly against Dean's plan Sam had been that morning. Not that Bobby was ecstatic with Dean playing reaper, not to mention the fact that Sam's soul was a very dangerous time bomb, mind-wall or not. All things considered, he should probably be ready for whatever stupid idea the younger hunter got in his head.

Lifting his eyes from the dusty pages, he looked at the mop of dark hair and curious blue eyes that were peeking at him from across his desk.

Thinking back to the previous evening when Sam and Castiel had been reading his manuscripts for a good couple of hours, Bobby felt his curiosity spark.

"You still good at understanding all these scribbles?"

A shy nod was his response, and when Bobby patted the book as an invitation to check it out, the little angel immediately moved around the desk. Before he could even blink, the kid was sitting on his lap. Eyes wide in shock, Bobby took a moment to process that the boy had zapped from right next to him to his lap.

_That_ was new.

He'd have to mention that to Dean later. If Cas was already starting to fly around, he might become harder to keep an eye on.

Forcing his attention back on the angel, Bobby watched with almost open fascination as little chubby fingers followed the dead words on the page. Willing to wait as long as it took, Bobby was almost surprised when Cas made a sound of recognition not much later.

"Found something?"

"Mother."

Now _that_ name rang a bell.

"You got anything on her?" He glanced down at the angel's dark hair only to find Cas looking upward to meet his eyes.

"She's Eve." He said it like it was so obvious, that Bobby got the uneasy feeling that Castiel knew exactly who this Mother was. They hadn't asked him for fear of what his reaction would be like, but apparently he didn't remember what the dragon had said.

"Eve?" He frowned.

"Eve." Castiel nodded, then turned blue eyes back to the book, carefully using both hands to turn the page.

Bobby snorted. Well he wasn't any more talkative than usual, that was for sure.

"Can you explain to me who Eve is, kiddo? I don't know her."

"She's the Mother." He answered easily, voice distracted as he looked through the new page.

_Okay. We could keep at this for a whole day._

"Alright, Cas," he gently pulled the book away from the angel and closed it, stacking it on the ones by his desk. Cas followed his hands with a small, confused frown then let out a surprised little sound when Bobby picked him up and sat him on the desk, facing the old hunter. "You're gonna have to explain better. The Mother of what?"

A familiar head tilt, then a small shrug, "Everything."

Bobby's eyebrows nearly disappeared under his cap, "Everything." He echoed. "As in…_everything_ everything?"

Castiel frowned, and it almost sounded like he was reciting from memory, like a kid remembering his lessons, "Eve is the Mother of the creatures of the dark."

"Oh, so we're talkin'…vampires, werewolves, shapeshifters…the whole deal." The boy nodded as the hunter trailed off. Suddenly overwhelmed, Bobby leaned back on his chair, pulling his hat off briefly to run a hand through his waning hair.

The little angel looked at him closely, "She's not here." It looked like the kid was trying to make him feel better and didn't really know how to go about it. Bobby had a feeling that the mess in Cas' mind did more than affect his memories; he seemed to struggle with words often. "She's locked up."

Forcing a small smile at his friend's attempt, Bobby patted Cas' knee, "That's good, kid. But I'm afraid this is still bad news."

Confused narrowed eyes regarded him carefully, but after a moment Castiel just tilted his head, "Why?"

"Well," He heaved a sigh, "Because I think someone's gonna try to bust her out." The boy nodded, but either he didn't understand what Bobby had just said, or he wasn't worried. Bobby chuckled and shook his head, "You have any idea where she's locked up?"

"Purgatory." Easy answer, once again.

Dread sank deep into Bobby's gut as a new thought occurred to him. "Isn't that what our demon friend Crowley wanted to find?" He knew the answer of course, but he wanted to test what Castiel's most recent memories were.

The way the boy's color drained from his face made him regret the idea in an instant. Castiel was suddenly shaking like a leaf and shaking his head with wide frightened eyes, "No! You can't open Purgatory! We're not allowed! I'll get punished!" The little angel's breathing hitched, "Raphael will get mad! He'll get mad, and he'll punish me. He'll get so mad!"

The boy's whimpers pulled at Bobby's heartstrings and it was almost instinctive when he took Castiel in his arms and pulled him to his chest, rubbing his back soothingly. The angel immediately clung to Bobby's shirt, trying to get his breathing back under control, but the trembling didn't look like it was going to stop any time soon.

"It's alright, Cas. It's okay, don't worry, you won't be punished. No one's opening Purgatory, don't worry." Bobby tried not to think of how a fledging that was supposed to be too young to know evil and pain could be so deathly afraid of his big brother. "Raphael's not gonna punish you."

He really tried. But when wide, teary blue eyes looked up at him with warring fear and hope in their depths, Bobby knew the angel had known pain from an early age.

"You promise?" A flash of his own childhood made a newfound protectiveness flare in the hunter's chest as he tightened his hold on the fledging.

"I Promise."

* * *

><p>Sam stood inside an old warehouse, the scent of burning herbs and incense blending with the smell of dust and old rust.<p>

He barely had a moment to second-guess his decision before sparks flew above his head. Balthazar was suddenly standing above him, looking down on him like the pompous asshole that he was.

"Sam Winchester," He announced, obviously less than amused. Less second later, the angel was standing behind him, and he turned around to face dangerous blue eyes. "This had better be good."

The hunter glared back at the angel. He didn't have any options. Dean was playing Death, and Sam's soul would be shoved back in him by the end of the day, he needed to act quickly.

"Well here's something for your list of dumbest things ever," Balthazar mocked, "Summon the angel who wants to _kill_ you."

Sam fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Desperate times." His mask fell firmly back in place as he readied himself to take the angel's jabs. "I need your help, Balthazar."

"Interesting," Balthazar deadpanned, "Since last time we met you wanted to, what was it?" The angel walked slowly past Sam, "Oh,_ yes_, yes. Fry my wings extra crispy?"

Yeah, he needed to fix that now.

"Well that was a misunderstanding—" He tried, but of course it was the wrong thing to say.

"_Some misunderstanding_." Balthazar snarked, turning around to face the hunter with a glare.

"I need some advice."

"Advice." Sam would like to think that he wouldn't sound just as bitchy if he were in Balthazar's shoes.

"_Angel _advice."

"Well then, go ask your boyfriend."

Huh. Interesting. Did Balthazar not know what had happened to Cas? Talk about trump card.

"Cas can't help me." He replied firmly. The angel tilted his head curiously, it must really be a family thing, "I need to know if there's a spell, or a weapon—_anything— _that can keep a soul _out_. Forever."

"Aww," The bastard cooed, "What's going on, Sam?" At least now he seemed curious. This might not turn out to be a complete waste of his time after all.

"It's for me."

"Well," Balthazar's amusement was obvious as he stepped closer, "The plot thickens." A small smirk, "Where's your soul, Sam?" The hunter let him guess, "Good God, no. It's not still—" Sam's face must have answered that question as surprise and fascination gleamed in the angel's eyes, "_It is_."

"My brother found a way to put it back in me. I don't want it."

"No," the angel shook his head, clearly agreeing, "You don't, no." And what did it say that Balthazar, who obviously wished him no good, also thought that shoving his soul back in was a bad idea? "'Cause Michael and Lucy are hate-banging it as we speak."

"Can you help me?"

"Oh, yes." Balthazar's back was turned to him as he savored Sam's impatience, "The question is, will I?"

"State your terms." Sam replied immediately, not a shadow of hesitation in his voice.

Balthazar swiveled around, clearly enjoying this, "I'll do it for free."

"Free?" Sam echoed disbelievingly, "Why?"

"Well you seem like a capable young man, I'd _love_ to have you in my debt." Sam watched him uneasily, "But I have to say, I'm not a fan of your brother so, screwing him would _delight_ me." And was it Sam or was there a spark of jealous anger in Balthazar's eyes? Interesting. "Anyway, to business; the _spell_, yes. So, finding the ingredients should be easy enough, but eh…there's one tricky part, however."

Of course there was.

"Okay."

"You need to _scar _your vessel."

_Huh?_

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning something that's so polluted that renders it uninhabitable." Balthazar's eyes were studying him carefully, "There is a limited number of things that someone can do to achieve that but, sadly, all but one are out of your reach at the moment."

"Great. What?"

"Patricide." Balthazar whispered, eyes gleaming with malice.

"My dad's been dead for years." Sam deadpanned.

The angel chuckled, "To be clear, you need the blood of your father, but your father needn't be blood." _Oh, you crafty son of a bitch_. "Comprende?"

Of course Balthazar would do it for free, Sam knew exactly what the angel was trying to say. Bobby had always been like a father to Sam and Dean, and killing him would certainly hurt Dean, not to mention that he'd be stuck with his soulless brother. Balthazar knew how to play the game, that was for sure.

"You said there were other ways." Not that Sam could say that he really cared about Bobby at the moment, but the old hunter was useful, and he'd never done him any wrong. If there was a way to make the spell without killing him, Sam would take it.

Balthazar stared at him disbelievingly before bursting out into condescending laughter. "Yes, I _did_ say that, didn't I?" He cleared his throat, clearly still amused, "Well, no offense, Sam, I know you're a great hunter and all, but I doubt you'd be able to sneak into Heaven and snatch what you need."

"So I might not find a way;" Sam said with a shrug, "You still haven't told me what it is." He challenged with a small smirk.

Suddenly the angel's eyes became defensive, suspicious. He watched the hunter for a moment before finally speaking, "Severing a bond as strong as the one between father and son will leave enough scarring to keep your soul out, Sam. But the murder of one the most innocent beings in Creation will make even demons fall at your feet with horror. There's a reason why that kind of light has never touched Earth; even Father knew better than to allow you mongrels anywhere near."

"Quit beating around the bush, you know I can't go to Heaven, just tell me."

"A newborn angel. A fledging."

They stared each other down, the smell of ozone in the air, Sam's chest feeling the pressure of the angel's power. All Sam could think of was the little angel waiting for him at Bobby's house.

Finally, Balthazar's mask fell back into place, and the angel shrugged, "It's too bad for you, I guess, the youngest angel's already all grown up and pretty." He clicked his tongue, "Good luck with your spell, Sam."

Then he was gone.


	7. For Your Soul

**A.N.** _LONGTIME NO SEE! Just wanted to profusely apologize with my forehead to the ground and announce that you are all perfectly justified to throw rotten tomatoes at me._

**A.N.2.** _ALSO, disclaimer, not mine, and warning for adaptations of canon dialogues._

* * *

><p>"So, where's Cas?" Sam asked nonchalantly, placing his cards on the table.<p>

Bobby sighed as he took on the boy's winning hand, "Put him to sleep, 'bout an hour before you got here." He wiggled his empty bottle, "You want another one?"

"Yeah, sure," Sam nodded with puppy eyes, which was about as big a sign of ill intentions as Bobby was going to get. And so, when Sam tried to knock the lights out of him while the old hunter had his back to him, Bobby got him hard on the head before the idjit even knew what had happened.

"May have been born at night, boy, but it wasn't _last_ night." He scoffed as he walked over to the counter to get some rope. His one mistake was to turn his back on Sam again, he realized, because when he looked back, the boy was not there anymore. Bobby looked around, dread weighing down on his stomach, "Not good."

Suddenly, Sam's interest in Cas' whereabouts had Bobby loading a shotgun and rushing to the room he'd left Castiel sleeping in, glad that he hadn't told Sam which one it was. Apparently, the gigantic idiot had gone upstairs to Bobby's room, seeing as the guest room was empty save for the little angel, who still slept peacefully.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Bobby took the toddler in his arms, inevitably waking him up in the process. "Shh…it's okay, Cas." The boy's blue eyes were full of sleep and confusion, but Bobby's voice seemed to put him at ease, "Sorry, Feathers, but we gotta play hide 'n go seek for a bit."

"Hide?" Came the tired voice as the little angel rubbed his eyes with tiny fists.

The muffled sound of steps made Bobby look up to the ceiling. Sam was coming back down. "Yep. Let's hide." He adjusted his hold on his shotgun, pulling Cas closer to him as he hurried back out of the room and locking them both inside a closet.

The silence in the small space was broken by Bobby's breathing. Castiel stayed blessedly quiet in his arms, but Bobby's tense stance had him watching the door with wide eyes. It was easy to forget it wasn't a real toddler he was holding, especially since, before Bobby even heard Sam approach, the little angel's breath hitched as he whispered Sam's name. Bobby could imagine the idjit's mind must have been a scary place to tap into at the moment.

The tip of an axe suddenly slammed through the door, making Castiel jump in his arms, and had Bobby not been so horrified by what Sam was attempting, he would have rolled his eyes at the situation. Moments later there was a hole in the door big enough to see Sam, a trail of blood down his face.

"Don't say _'Here's Johnny'_." The angel in his arms hid his face on Bobby's shoulder, shaking like a leaf. And Bobby wasn't sure he wanted to know what he'd seen in the boy's mind.

"I gotta do this, Bobby," Sam replied, out of breath, "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have cornered yourself." He raised his axe, ready for another blow.

"I _didn't_." Bobby snapped before pulling on a lever on the side. Sam disappeared from sight as the trap door underneath his feet gave way, and he fell down into the basement. When would those boys learn that his paranoia reached levels a psychologist would have a field day with?

He could already hear Sam stomping up the stairs, and so he opened the closet and walked towards the door to the basement. Once there, he put Castiel down, "Don't worry, Feathers, it's gonna be fine."

The confusion in Castiel's eyes broke his heart. If a fledging could not understand evil at all, to have someone you consider family try to kill you out of the blue must have blown his innocent little mind. It gave Bobby a better understanding of what Castiel had dealt with when he'd decided to fight for them. Having your brothers try to kill you can't have been easy to deal with.

Sam was coming up the stairs again, this time to try and break down the door with something. The noise made both Bobby and Castiel flinch.

"Reinforced steel core," Bobby informed him, "Titanium kick plate." He snarled, "_Get comfy."_ When no more hits were heard, Bobby finally decided it was time to ask, "You wanna explain what this is about?"

"Just uh…I have to do this, Bobby." Yeah, he got that much.

"Says who?" The idjit couldn't have come up with this sudden need to kill him on his own. So help him if Sam had been consulting with a demon on his little escapade earlier that day, Bobby would smack the stupid right out of him.

He heard a groan and assumed Sam was sitting down. Well good. "Dean shoves that soul back in me, think how bad that could really be." Bobby frowned, "I can't let it happen, Bobby." The old hunter should get paid for what these two idjits did to his heart, "I mean it's not like I wanna kill you, you've been nothing but good to me."

"So, what? Demon deal or somethin'?" There wasn't much else it could be.

"Spell." Bobby didn't like the way Castiel froze up behind him, staring at the door with newfound horror. The little angel knew exactly what spell Sam was attempting to make. And by the looks of it, it wasn't anything good.

"You're making a mistake, Sam." He called, not taking his eyes off Castiel, who seemed to be lost in his own bird brain. Hopefully Sam's psychotic break wouldn't bring all the dark memories in that little head slamming back to the front of his mind.

"I'm trying to _survive_!"

"Dean's got a way to make it safe!" Although both he and Sam knew it wasn't 100% safe.

"Oh yeah, what, some _wall_ inside my head that _maybe_ stays up? Come on!"

"If it _works_." Sam going all terminator on them surely wouldn't help.

"And what if it doesn't?" Sam suddenly snapped, "Dean doesn't care about _me_, he just cares about his little brother, _Sammy_, burning in Hell." Bobby closed his eyes, "He'll _kill _me to get that other guy back."

"Look," He sighed. He could see how Sam wasn't really keen on the idea, but he wasn't leaving them much choice, "I know how scary it is. But you know what's scarier?_ You, _right now."

"Gone," Cas suddenly said behind him, and Bobby looked down at him with alarm. The little angel was looking around nervously, like he couldn't get a read on where Sam was, "Not the door, Sam's not there."

"You can't feel him at all?" Bobby pressed, walking closer to him and taking a look around as well.

Castiel shook his head firmly, "Sigils." He said, which was already answer enough as it was. But then, "Empty. He's dark, so I can't see him."

"Balls!" He cursed. He'd let the boy touch his heartstrings and given him the perfect chance to escape while Bobby launched into a reassuring speech. Knowing it probably wasn't a good idea, but that he had to make sure, seeing as Cas couldn't be certain Sam wasn't still hiding down there, he unlocked the door and opened it.

There didn't seem to be anyone there, but still he slowly walked down the stairs, shotgun at the ready, "Ain't nobody killing me in _my _house but _me._" He looked up and motioned for Cas to stay where he was.

The little angel nodded shakily, looking smaller than he already was with his fists pressed to his chest.

"I don't want to blow your legs out, boy, but I will." He informed. He couldn't think of a way Sam could have left the basement. Suddenly, he spotted the panic room, and dread took a bite at his stomach again. Rushing to it, he peaked inside to see a ladder and broken glass. The stubborn idjit had torn down the iron grid on the ceiling that led outside.

A high pitched yelp made him run back to the bottom of the stairs, and Bobby watched horrified as Sam held Castiel tightly to him, the little angel trying his best to wriggle out of his grip. "Sam, what are you doing?" He asked, not knowing what exactly the boy had in mind. "Boy, put the angel down. I'll come back up, but you put him down."

For a moment, Bobby could have sworn he saw regret in the boy's eyes, but then that soulless look was back in place, "Sorry, Bobby. But you're not the only one I can use for the spell." That was enough to make the old hunter rush up the stairs, but Sam closed the door in his face, the sound of the lock sliding in just as loud as the drumming of his heart in his ears.

"Sam! Sam, stop!

"Bobby! Bobby!"

His breath died in his throat as the angels scared whimpers reached his ears, and Bobby dropped the shotgun to slam his fists against the door. "Sam, this isn't going to solve anything!"

"I have no choice. I'm not letting Dean put that soul back in me." He could hear the boy was already walking away from the door, and Bobby wracked his brain for a way to help the fledging.

"Fly! You hear me, Feathers? You gotta fly!"

He stood, holding his breath, and only letting it out when he heard Sam's muffled curses and his footsteps fading out in a hurry.

Closing his eyes with relief, Bobby let himself slide down to sit on the top step, cursing his age because there was no physical way he could climb out through the ceiling of the panic room like Terminator had.

* * *

><p>"Cas!" Sam roared, anger flooding his veins as he searched the house for the fledging. He should have thought about Cas' wings. God knew where the angel was now.<p>

A tiny part in the back of his brain was relieved that Castiel had managed to escape, but Sam's survival instincts had taken over any other thought. Becoming frustrated, Sam grabbed the angel blade from his bag in the living room and kept on searching.

After working through most of the house, any hope that Cas was still inside was starting to fade. But then he heard a loud clutter and broken glass, and he immediately made his way back to the living room.

He found Castiel huddled against the desk, his round face reddened with exhaustion, and his breathing ragged. He must have bumped into the desk during or after his last flight, as the shattered pieces of some bottle lay scattered around the angel.

Walking slowly, Sam was quick to hide the angel blade behind his back, raising his other hand as though he were approaching a skittish animal. "Come on, Cas," He forced a smile, "You're too young to fly so much just yet…let's just sit for a bit and talk, okay? Just like yesterday. You can help me with the spell I'm trying to make."

At the mention of a spell, Castiel whimpered and started running again. Letting out a curse, Sam chased after him. Luckily for him, Cas was slower and clumsier in this shape, and he caught up to the toddler with ease.

He picked him up, holding him with one arm while the fledging struggled, his scared whimpers becoming louder as his fear turned to absolute terror. Suddenly, a high-pitched sound tore through Sam's ears, making him drop the angel and the blade with a yell as bottles exploded and the glass panels of windows cracked around him. Bringing his hands to his ears, Sam glared at the blood he found on his fingers once the noice stopped.

Castiel had spoken in his true voice.

It was bad enough when angels were just talking, a shriek like that could very well have left him deaf. But pain only fed his anger, and Sam picked up his fallen blade and ran after the toddler as the angel hurried away from him again, a slight limp in his step.

"That's it," He snarled, "I'm done playing." He grabbed the fledging harshly and pressed him down on the nearest table, a hand on his mouth to keep that damn angel voice from completely shattering his eardrums.

Breathing raggedly, Sam met terrified blue eyes and found that he couldn't hold their stare, lest his bond with the angel that got him from the Pit give him second thoughts. He didn't want to kill Castiel. But killing him was the best way to keep his soul at bay. He didn't have a choice.

"I'm sorry, Castiel."

The immediate forgiveness he found mingled with the fear and sadness in that familiar ocean blue made Sam pause, momentarily amazed.

It was his mistake.

A strong hand gripped his wrist as he was bringing down the blade, and his surprise at finding Dean behind him gave his brother enough time to smile coldly at him, "Hey, Sam. I'm home," Before slamming his fist in his face. Sam knocked his head against the table on his way down, and everything went black.

* * *

><p>Had Sam not been his brother, Dean would have followed his first impulse and shot the man standing over his friend with an angel blade. The sight was enough to bring out the coldness that Hell had instilled deep inside him as he knocked his brother out.<p>

Once he was sure Sam was completely dead to the world, Dean turned his full attention to Castiel, who was still lying on the table, shaking like a leaf.

"Cas?" He proved carefully, worried for how the angel's delicate state of mind was taking all of this, "Cas, it's okay," Dean's chest lurched at the terror and sadness in those eyes.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, buddy, it's me," He forced a smile for the fledging, trying his best to sooth him, "It's just Dean."

Castiel's breath hitched in his chest, and Dean just wanted to kill the monster lying on the floor next to him. If he needed more proof that it was not his brother, this was it. "Sam's empty. He's really dark, I can't see him." He whimpered shakily, like this was his fault, like he was apologizing, and Dean just wouldn't have that.

In a moment, Castiel was in his arms, holding on to Dean's jacket like his life depended on it. The hunter let him hide his face on the crook of his neck, putting a reassuring hand on those unruly, dark locks. "Hey," He hushed, "Hey, it's okay. It's okay, I'm here. You're fine, and Sam's gonna be fine too. You'll see." His failure to pass Death's test doubled in its weight; because Sam was not fine, and he was never going to be. But for Castiel's sake, and also for his own state of mind, he would pretend there was still hope. "We'll get light back in there, Cas, don't worry."

Cas nodded against his shoulder.

Suddenly, the loud noise of something banging on metal made Dean jump. Castiel straightened and looked over Dean's shoulder.

"Bobby."

The name immediately made his blood run cold, and Dean was running towards the basement the second it left Cas' lips, still holding the angel close.

"Bobby?" He yelled, dreading what Sam could have done to the old hunter, "Bobby!" He put the angel down and fiddled with the lock, which of course decided to pick that moment to be difficult.

"Dean?" The door was open a second later, and Dean pulled Bobby out into the light to try to find any injuries.

"Bobby, what the hell happened? Are you okay?" He demanded, green eyes finally meeting the old man's.

"I'm fine, it's Sam, he's—" Bobby's face drained of all color, "Cas. Where's Cas?"

"I'm here." A small voice suddenly piped in, stepping out from behind Dean. Suddenly noticing the way he was favoring his right leg, Dean clenched his hands, anger flaring up inside him at the sight.

Bobby visibly sagged with relief, and Dean almost did a double take when the gruff man suddenly dropped to his knees in front of the little angel and hugged him tight to his chest. He was equally surprised to see Castiel hug him right back; but considering the hell they'd both just been through, Dean knew he shouldn't have been all that shocked. Bobby may have denied it in the past, but Dean knew he'd come to see the angel as part of their messed up little family. This only fermented his belief even more, and Dean allowed himself a small smile as Bobby stood back up, mumbling curses at his popping, old knees but stubbornly refusing to let go of the toddler.

"So," And it shouldn't be so hilarious to see Bobby Singer being his usual grouchy self while holding a kid in his arms. Only it was, and Bobby warned him against pointing it out with a scathing glare before continuing, "How did your date with Daddy Reaper go?"

All humor left Dean's eyes at the mention of Death, and Bobby could clearly see it, as he patted his arm and nodded towards the kitchen. "Well, if we're gonna figure something else out, we ought to lock that idjit up before he tries to do somethin' stupid again."

* * *

><p>Dean sighed as he stepped out of the guest room. Castiel had practically passed out from exertion after they'd locked Sam up in the panic room. Bobby had explained to him that the little angel had attempted to fly away from Sam, but had probably not been strong enough to make great distances. The fledging had fallen asleep in Dean's arms on their way up from the basement, still holding onto him with one fist that refused to let go. In any other circumstances, Dean would have smiled at the fact that Cas had been clutching the same spot on his shoulder were the handprint was. Now it only made him think of how vulnerable Castiel was in this shape. Kid couldn't even <em>fly<em> all that well, and that was something that Cas had always used to his advantage before.

Shaking his head slightly, his heart heavy with failure and sorrow, it took a moment for Dean to notice the skeletal man sitting at Bobby's table.

"Dean," He froze, "Join me."

Slowly, Dean tried to think of what Death could be doing in Bobby's house, eating a hot dog like Dean hadn't totally failed his test. Death placed the extra hot dog closer to the chair next to him.

"Brought you one," And it was weird as hell how he could be the scariest creature Dean had ever dealt with one second, then look like an excited grandpa treating his grandson to cheap food, "From a little stand in Los Angeles, known for their bacon dogs," Of course the friendly look could only last so long, "_Sit._"

And so Dean sat.

But because Dean was Dean, of course he couldn't help but to snark, "Well, what's with you and cheap food?"

Death only raised his eyebrows, "I could ask you the same thing." Touché. "Thought I'd have a treat, before I put the ring back on." Right. The ring. Dean held it in his hand with a thoughtful look, "Heavier than it looks, isn't it? Sometimes you just want the thing off…but you know that." Dean said nothing, "Not hungry?"

"Look," He finally said as he placed the ring in front of Death, "I think you know that I flunked. So there." Dean looked away from the old man, "Oh by the way, I uh…I sucked at being you. I screwed up the whole natural order thing, but I'm sure you knew about that too." He felt like he was confessing his sins. Or worse, explaining to the high school headmaster how he'd wrecked his car.

"So, if you could go back," Death asked, "Would you simply kill the little girl, no fuss, no stomping your feet?"

"Knowing what I know now, yeah." Dean admitted, not exactly happy to do so.

"I'm surprised to hear that." Death took a sip of his cheap beer. Bastard. "Surprised, and _glad_."

"Yeah, well, don't get excited. I would have saved the nurse, that's it."

"I think it's a little more than that." Dean met Death's eyes uneasily, "Today you got a hard look behind the curtain. Wrecking the natural order's not quite such fun when you have to mop up the mess, is it?" Yeah, he got that now. "This is hard for you, Dean. You throw away your life, because you've come to assume it'll bounce right back into your lap." It's not like Dean ever asked to be brought back, "The human soul is not a rubber ball. It's vulnerable, impermanent…but stronger than you know." Dean swallowed as Death whispered, "And more valuable than you can imagine."

Then he leaned back, and he was back to being an old man, "So. I think you've learned something today."

Cocky bastard.

"You wanna know what I think?" Every instinct was telling Dean to shut up, but again, he was Dean, so he kept going, "I think you knew I wouldn't last a day."

"I've no idea what you're talking about."

"I lost, _fine._ But at least have the _balls_ to admit that it was rigged from the beginning."

Death gave him a long look, and Dean was pretty much kissing his life goodbye because _what the hell was he thinking?_

"Most people speak to me with more respect." He said simply, and yeah this might be his last chance to apologize.

"I didn't mean—"

"We're done here." Death rose from his seat after wiping his mouth.

Crap.

"It's been lovely," Goodbye world, "_Now_, I'm going to go to Hell to get your brother's soul."

_Wait. What?_

"Why would you do that for me?"

"I wouldn't do it for _you_." Death said, once again making Dean feel really small as he walked around the table to stand beside him. "You and your brother keep coming back. You're an affront to the balance of the universe and you cause disruption on a global scale."

Unable to meet Death's eyes, Dean mumbled, "Apologize for that."

"But you have use," Dean chanced a look up, "Right now, you're _digging_ something, intrepid detective." Death almost smiled then, before going dead serious. Dead serious. Ha. "I want you to keep digging, Dean."

"So you're just gonna be cryptic or…?"

"It's about a _door_. And what awaits on the other side." Death took his ring from the table, "You'll understand, when you need to."

"Wait," Death stopped, "With Sam…is this wall thing really gonna work?"

"Call it 75%." Death suddenly said. Funny guy. And Dean was already looking away, but then the skeletal man stopped once again, "By the way," Something in Death's tone made him look up, "The fledging sleeping in that room," Dean tensed, "You'd do well to keep him safe from harm."

And with that said, he put the ring on and disappeared.

* * *

><p>"Bobby!" Dean rushed downstairs to find Bobby with a shotgun, guarding the panic room.<p>

"Open the door," He barely had time to say as he made it to the bottom of the stairs.

"What happened?" Bobby was right to question his sanity, but Dean didn't have time for this.

"Now!" By the time Bobby got to the door, Dean had joined him and they both opened the door to find Sam already yelling at Death as the skeletal man sat next to him with a bag.

"Get away from me! Don't. Don't!" There was a light, white and pure, and as it neared Sam's chest, Dean had to clench his jaw as his brother looked at him with begging eyes, "You don't know what'll happen! You don't know—"

Whatever else Sam was going to say was drowned by the sound of his own screams as the light of his soul was pushed into his chest.

Dean wasn't sure how he heard it in the midst of Sam's agony, but the sound of a hitched breath made him turn around. And the sight that he found made him want to call all of this off.

Castiel stood at the door, blue eyes wide and glued on Sam with such horror that for a moment Dean's confidence in Death's plan faltered.

But before he could think about it too much, Sam had stopped screaming, and Dean turned back with his heart in his throat to see his brother unconscious. His first thought was that it had been too much. That he'd just signed his brother's death warrant. But Death stood and walked towards Dean with his usual calm, so Dean chose to take that as a good sign.

As the Father of all Reapers came to stand in front of him, Dean watched him warily, only to realize that Death was not looking at _him_. With a frown, he followed Death's line of sight to the shaking form of Castiel. The little angel was looking at the one who was as old as God himself with nothing short of petrifying terror.

"Castiel," The way he said the angel's name made a chill run up Dean's spine, and he almost did a double take when Cas clumsily stepped into the panic room and walked towards Death. The old man looked down at the little angel and then, to Dean's surprise, slowly lowered to one knee. "You have been given new purpose, little one. Your suffering will be the key to open many doors."

Dean exchanged an alarmed look with Bobby, who was holding his shotgun like he was trying his hardest not to shoot Death in the face right there.

"What do you mean, suffering?" Dean demanded to know, but Death ignored him, not even sparing him a look.

"Your heart will be broken, and you will face pain, no matter which path you choose to follow. But you must stay true to your purpose. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Cas answered, standing bravely like a little soldier yet still shaking like a leaf.

If Dean didn't know any better, he would have sworn Death smiled right then. But those thoughts were pushed to the back of his mind when the Reaper suddenly placed a gentle hand on the angel's head and leaned forward to kiss his forehead.

It was barely a brush of lips on Cas' skin, but a kiss from Death was not likely to be a good omen for anything. Dean was ready to intercede, but then Death stood, back to being his usual, dry self.

"Do me a favor, Dean. Think before you open your mouth."

He was gone a second later, and Bobby and Dean's eyes met once more before they looked down at the little angel, who was looking into space with his little hand touching his forehead.

No fucking way he was letting Cas out of his sight now.

* * *

><p>"He has light." Cas said from where he was perched on Sam's cot, his little hand looking tinier still, pressed to Sam's chest as it was. He turned to look at Dean and, for a moment, he looked like his old self, "His soul is in place."<p>

"But he's okay?" For some reason, Dean couldn't make himself walk into the panic room, always guarding his brother from outside of the cage he'd locked him in.

Castiel watched him from his place at Sam's side, and Dean remembered that Cas had been opposed to forcing Sam's soul back into him, before he'd been turned into a kid. "His soul hurts." The child said sadly, "But he sleeps."

"But it's been days, Cas." He should have woken up by now, right?

"He sleeps." Cas repeated before climbing down from the cot. He made his way over to Dean, and when he looked up at him, his eyes were childish once again. "He's Sam again. He's not empty anymore." A small smile, "Like you said."

Warmth filled Dean's chest, and seeing the kid walk up to the rise of the door, he picked Cas up and started making his way back to the stairs.

On their way up, Dean watched Castiel. Death's words had been plaguing his mind, and he couldn't help but fear for the little angel's future. What with the kiss of Death (literally) and the talk of a new destiny…Dean thought he had every right to worry. He and Sam knew perfectly well what having a destiny entailed. It only brought pain, and for God's sake, Cas was only a child now.

He could only hope to keep him safe. Both him and Sam. Dean wouldn't let anything happen to them if it killed him.

"Cas," Blue eyes blinked up at him, "What purpose was Death talking about? Do you know?"

Castiel studied him for a long moment, then leaned his head down on Dean's shoulder, "_My_ purpose…my destiny." There was a sadness in his voice that tore at Dean's heart, but the way Cas huddled closer to him was enough to tell him the angel didn't want to talk about it. So Dean only held him closer and didn't ask again.

As he reached the living room, he put Castiel down and watched him trot over to the kitchen, then went to sit across from Bobby. The old hunter took one look at Dean and poured him some whiskey.

"Like my daddy always said, 'Just cause it kills your liver don't mean it ain't medicine'," Dean took a sip, unable to answer, "Sam still asleep?"

"Uh…yeah." To be honest, he wasn't much up for talking right now.

"Dean," Bobby started, and Dean prepared himself for a reassuring speech, "He's been through how much? Somehow he always bounces back."

"He's never been through this," He finally met Bobby's eyes with a dead look. He was tired.

"How's Feathers?" The old hunter asked after a moment, eyes careful.

"Scared." Dean answered simply, "I think he's forgiven Sam already, but..."

"Having someone you trust try to kill you can't be forgotten in a matter of days," Bobby finished sadly.

Dean nodded, taking a sip from his glass. He'd rather not talk about Castiel, to be honest. Dean sighed and finally noticed the newsprint on Bobby's desk, "Job?"

"Might be." The hunter turned the paper so Dean could see it, "Couple goes up on a light plane, wreckage was just found in the woods."

Dean made a face, "Doesn't seem like news of the weird."

"Pilot was found seventeen miles away, _flambéed,_" Okay, _that_'s weird, "Girl's just gone. No body, no nothin'."

Dean nodded, "Kay, I'm not changing the channel—"

"Dean." The voice that joined theirs made Dean's head snap around so fast he could have broken his neck.

But there he was. Sam stood, gigantic as always, at the door to the living room, looking like he hadn't seen Dean in a year. And Dean stood up, "Sam?" Unable to hide the hope in his voice.

He was barely on his feet when Sam pulled him into a hug. Or bear hug. And God had Dean missed those, no matter how much he denied it later. His brother pulled away after a bit, looking at him with a disbelieving smile before moving on to Bobby.

Knowing what had transpired just hours before, Dean found it easy to notice the reluctance in Bobby's stance as Sam pulled him for a hug, but his little brother remained oblivious. "Good to see ya," was all Bobby managed to say.

"Wait," Sam's face was now marred by a frown, "I saw you—I mean, I felt…Lucifer snap your neck."

Dean shared a shocked look with the old hunter, but Bobby barely got out a few words, "No. Cas…Cas—" before Sam interrupted yet again, looking genuinely surprised and happy.

"Cas? Cas is alive?"

Silence fell at Sam's question.

Yeah, Cas was alive. But he'd also been forced into a corner by his own brother and dealt with a demon to save their asses. He'd been stabbed by a demon-bitch and poisoned by a dragon. He'd been turned into a child.

And Sam had almost succeeded in killing him not a day ago.

"Guys?" Sam had finally noticed the tension in the room, and was turning to look at Dean, "Cas is alive…right?" Hazel eyes begged him for an answer, "Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam, he's—" but Dean's eyes were distracted by a figure standing past Bobby. Castiel was half-hiding behind the wooden frame of the door, blue eyes completely fixed on Sam.

It was only a moment, but Sam saw the look in Dean's eyes and turned around.

Obviously he wasn't expecting to find a kid, three to four years old, watching with wide eyes as the giant man that had tried to skewer him hugged his friends.

"Dean?" Sam stuttered, "Bobby, who is that?"

Bobby could barely hide his protectiveness as he gently guided the boy into the room, keeping a hand on his mess of dark hair. "Tell 'im, boy."

Guileless blue eyes met Sam's, and Dean could hear his brother's breath hitch with understanding before the little angel could say anything.

"Castiel."


	8. Help

**A.N. **_I AM TERRIBLE AND DESERVE TO BE PUNISHED FOR THIS NEGLIGENCE. PLEASE FORGIVE ME._

* * *

><p>To say the tension in the room could have been cut with a butter knife would have been an understatement. Sam practically gobbled his sandwich at a speed that would have been concerning if Dean hadn't known he'd been passed out for two days. But once he was done stuffing his face, Sam's eyes kept going to Castiel, who was sitting on the counter, next to Bobby.<p>

At a safe distance away from Sam.

"So, Sam," He started, forcing his brother's attention away from the angel. "What do you remember?"

Sam's eyes strayed to Cas for a second before meeting Dean's. "Um…the field. And then I fell."

"And then?" Dean prompted. Because it couldn't be that simple, right? He couldn't have gotten away with no trauma, or memories from hell, or from the year he'd spent as a freaking robot.

Sam shrugged, "And then I woke up in the panic room."

"That's it?" Bobby frowned, his tone dripping with disbelief, "No—"

"_Let's be glad_." Dean interrupted, giving Bobby a look. He got that the hunter was still miffed about the murder attempt, but that hadn't been Sam. Bobby would get over it. Dean made a point not to look at Castiel as he tried to convince himself of that.

"Wait, how long was I down there?"

Great, now Sam was asking questions. Dean could only hope it didn't start cracking the wall.

"A year and a half." He muttered, studying Sam's face for any hints of a flashback or recollection in his eyes.

"I was in hell for a—" Sam stuttered, his disbelief and horror genuine, "But I don't remember anything." His eyes were begging at Dean to tell him how that was possible. But Dean wasn't sure how to answer that without scratching the wall, and so he shrugged and gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

"Maybe it's better that way, Sammy." He could practically feel Bobby's urge to snort in derision, but thankfully the old man stayed quiet.

Sam nodded, lost in thought, and Dean took that second to let out a breath of relief. They'd dodged that bullet. For now.

"But how am I back? Was it Cas—?" Dean shook his head, although perhaps he should have said yes, because now he'd have to tell the truth about that one. "Dean, what did you do?"

See?

"Me and Death—"

"Death?! Dean are you nuts! What the he—"

"Look, I had _leverage_. Okay?" He said, harshly. "It's done."

Thankfully, Sam was satisfied enough with that answer to let the subject go. For now. Because he'd probably pester him for details later, but at least Dean would have time to think of what to say.

"So, what happened to Cas?" Awesome. Now Bobby was tensing up again, his protectiveness practically another person in the room.

Sam was back to studying Castiel though, and Dean knew there was no getting out of this one without answering. Because his little brother had gone to hell thinking he'd killed their friend, and come back to see him turned into a three year old.

There was a tiny flutter of wings, and Cas was standing next to Dean's chair, looking up at Sam with none of the fear he'd seen in those blue eyes two days ago. The hunter wondered if Cas was really not scared of Sam anymore, or if he should be worried that the fledging was so good at hiding his emotions already.

"Meg," Castiel said, his small voice surprising Sam into silence, "And a dragon."

Sam's eyes widened, looking away from the little angel to meet Dean's eyes for a second, "Meg? As in—"

"Demon bitch Meg," Dean clarified with a humorless smirk, "Our Meg."

The younger hunter grimaced before what Castiel had said seemingly sank in, "Wait. When he says dragon, he doesn't mean—" His eyes traveled from the angel, to Dean, to Bobby and back again.

"Right out of the dungeons, yeah." Dean nodded, remembering his own reaction to finding out the things existed. Next thing you know, they'd find out unicorns were real too.

"Um…wow, okay." Sam blinked, letting the new information process in that gigantic brain of his, "But how did Meg and a—a _dragon _turn Cas into a _kid_?"

Dean looked at Cas, who was looking up at him as though giving him permission to explain. He'd have to talk to Bobby about Castiel's problems communicating; it was starting to worry him.

With a sigh, Dean shared a look with Bobby before turning to Sam again, "I'm pretty sure it wasn't Meg," He raised a hand to stop Sam's questions and rubbed his face tiredly, "Meg got the jump on us and managed to stab Cas with his own sword," Sam's eyes widened and looked down at Castiel with alarm, but the little angel only offered him a tiny smile, which thankfully got Sam to calm his tits and let him finish, "Cas was still too weak to defend himself when the dragon broke in after, and…" He cleared his throat, looking down at Castiel again to make sure the little angel was okay with this, but Cas only nodded again.

"Dean?" Sam was looking between him and Cas with concern, "What did he do?"

Dean met Sam's eyes, his stoic mask hiding how scared he'd been that day, "He forced Cas to drink his blood."

Sam froze, swallowing thickly, his eyes now fixed on Castiel, who was looking down at his feet like he was ashamed that he'd been too weak to fend off the dragon. "Blood," And Dean could practically see the memories of Sam's addiction to the demonic version of that through his brother's frightened eyes. "I didn't know dragon blood could do…_that,_ to an angel."

Dean snorted and placed his hand on top of Castiel's head, ruffling the dark locks because Cas had better stop feeling guilty for something that was not his fault, "Yeah, you think we did?"

A breath of a laugh escaped Sam's lips as he took on the affectionate gesture, but Dean ignored the curious look on his littler brother's face for the grateful one in Castiel's eyes, "And…do you know why he just broke in and de-aged Cas, or…?"

"We're not sure." Which wasn't completely a lie, but Dean could feel the look Bobby was giving him, because it wasn't the complete truth either. But what little they knew had to do with Purgatory and the mess Crowley had gotten Cas into, and Dean didn't want Sam knowing about that just yet.

Sam looked at Bobby then, "So you haven't found any lore on dragons and angels?" And while it made sense for Sam to turn to Bobby for such a question, it was not the right moment, which Bobby made almost painfully obvious as he gruffly shook his head and mumbled some reason or another before he stepped around Dean's chair and picked Castiel up.

The little angel allowed himself to be lifted with only a small frown of confusion, and Bobby said something about using him as a walking n' talking translator as he walked out of the room and to his study.

Dean tried not to roll his eyes while Sam watched Bobby leave with the same puzzled look he'd had all afternoon, "So…what was that?"

"One part old age, three parts alcohol?" Dean shrugged, like he knew as much as Sam did.

"Huh." Sam huffed, looking at his empty plate, and Dean could already see the wheels turning.

"Want another beer?" He offered, pushing himself to his feet. Sam only blinked up at him and nodded, still distracted, and Dean readied himself for more answers or lies of omission as he got them both a beer and sat back at the table.

"Thanks," Sam mumbled, holding the bottle in his hands and drawing on the condensation on the glass, "So are you gonna tell me what's really going on?" Dean froze, but managed to keep his poker face as he looked at Sam with his beer halfway to his mouth, "Like, since when is Bobby so close to Cas, for one?"

"I don't know, man," And hell, that was something Dean was not lying about. He'd come back from his deal with Death and suddenly it was like walking in on an old man and his beloved grandchild. "Haven't had time to ask that yet. I came back from my chat with Death and they were like a little family, it's cavity inducing." He grimaced as he took a sip of his beer. Because there was no way Dean would ever admit just how glad he was that Bobby had taken to Castiel's younger version with such protectiveness. He was going to need Bobby's help to keep the fledging safe from whatever destiny Death had talked about.

"Okay…but what's with the mother hen routine?" Sam asked with raised eyebrows, and thank God that Sam had not taken it personally and thought it was Bobby being weird in general.

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. "After bringing you back, Death said something to me…about making sure I kept Cas safe." Sam frowned, his eyes never leaving his, and his concern already visible, "He also talked to Cas about some sort of destiny," The way Sam froze at the word was a clear sign that he found it as funny as Dean did. Still, he hesitated before saying what had truly kept him up since then, "And that it would bring him pain no matter which path he chose."

"Jesus…" Sam breathed out, running his hands through his dark hair—kid really needed a haircut, "Does Cas know what he—" he paused as Dean shook his head.

"If he does, he's not tellin'." Dean looked down at his half empty bottle, "But I can only imagine it ain't gonna be pretty." He looked up to meet Sam's eyes, "But you can bet your ass we're gonna keep him safe."

Sam nodded, his face hard with determination, "Yeah. Yeah, we are."

* * *

><p>In the end, Bobby decides that Sam should go on the hunt with Dean instead, saying that someone should stay with Cas, since it's probably not a good idea to parade a mini angel around. And while Sam accepts the answer easily enough, Dean shares sighs and gives the man a look before getting in the car.<p>

He and Bobby will have to have a talk later.

After that, it's like Sam never left. Only now, Dean can appreciate the fact that his brother is such a big girl and feel nothing but relief…instead of embarrassment in the name of all men in the world.

So, _virgins!_ Apparently they have a monster that their only surviving victim described as a giant bat that likes deflowering young women, and also has a thing for gold.

"This can't be possible," Dean rolls his eyes as Sam whines at his computer again.

"Try me." He says without much enthusiasm.

"Uh, I googled fire, claws, stealing virgins, and gold, and it all takes me to the same place."

"Where." Dean's still looking at the pictures they've pinned to the map on the wall, trying to find a connection.

"World of War Craft fan sites."

Dean blinked and turned around, "I don't know what that means."

"Dragons, dude."

Dean frowns, and apparently Sam's losing his touch because it only sank in after Dean's eyes widened.

"You think—"

"Only one way to find out, isn't there?" Dean said as he walked over to Sam to look at the screen as well. "And you're right, and it's really dragons. Then I've got some questions to ask those ugly suckers."

Sam nodded, all the impatience gone from him now that he knew what they had to look for. "Maybe we should call, Bobby." He offered, already reaching for his cell phone.

"Great idea!" Dean snatched it out of his hand and gave him a cheeky grin as Sam looked at him with a 'what the fuck' expression. He turned around as he marked speed dial 2, not trusting his face to keep up the good-humored mask under Sam's scrutiny. Once the dial tone picked up, Dean didn't waste any time, "Hey, Bobby," This was still Sam's phone, after all, and Dean didn't want to hear what Bobby's greeting to Sam would be like.

"_That was fast,"_ He could hear sounds of pots and figured Bobby was making lunch. Poor Cas.

"Yeah, well, Sam and I think we know what we're dealing with, but we'll probably need some info from you on this one."

"_Alright, lay it on me." _His tone was easy and the tension from before was gone, and Dean had a feeling it had something to do with Cas being there and Sam being far away.

"Dragons."

"…_You're sure?"_ Had it not been for Cas' incident, Dean was sure Bobby would have told him to call when he had a real lead and hung up on him.

"Does giant bat with a thing for gold and virgins scream anything else to you? Because I'm all ears."

"_Alright, smartass, I'll see if I find anything."_

"Hey, could you put Cas on the phone?" He didn't really want to ask the angel, and he wasn't even sure if Cas remembered what had happened. But if they were going to get Cas back to normal, Dean couldn't take any chances.

There was a long pause on the other line before Bobby answered, _"Yeah, sure, hold on."_ He heard the sound of foot steps and the old hunter's muffled voice, _"Hey, Feathers, get over here."_ The nickname brought a brief smile to his face, which earned him a curious look from Sam, but Dean shook his head and turned to face away from his brother again.

"_Dean?"_ God, why did he have to sound so young?

"Hey, Cas," He greeted softly, "Listen, we think we know what we're hunting, but—"

"_A dragon."_

Once he got over his surprise, Dean let out a surprised chuckle, "Were you eavesdropping, you little feather duster?"

"_Yes."_

The blunt answer got a laugh out of Dean, which only made Sam's eyebrows rise higher as he watched from his computer, "Alright, fair enough." He cleared his throat, getting back on subject, "Listen, Cas, I need to ask—" His eyes met Sam's briefly as he hesitated, "Do you know what they could be doing? With the virgins?"

Let's keep it close to the case for now.

"_A sacrifice,"_ Cas' voice sounded meeker, smaller, _"Bring…bring the Mother back."_

The Mother, again. Dean would have to tell Bobby to focus their research on that when they got back.

"Okay, so if we kill the dragons before they get to that, it should be okay, right?"

"Yes."

"Okay…" He sighed, they'd have to work on finding a weapon that would actually do something to them now. "Hey, Cas?" He asked again, his voice softer, "Do they…Can we get a cure for you from the dragons?"

"No."

And there it was, brutally honest even when softened by a child's voice. "Alright…that's…" He sighed, "We'll find something, Cas. Don't worry."

"Okay, Dean," So freaking trusting. There was not an ounce of doubt in that small voice.

_Dean you better not fuck up this time._

Sam started waving his hands from the computer, and Dean sent him an annoyed look. _'What!' _He mouthed, pulling away from the phone briefly. Sam sent him a bitch face right back before making a stabbing motion with his hand and turning his computer to show him the spears and swords on the screen.

Oh, right.

"Cas, do you know anything that can kill a dragon?" He rolled his eyes at Sam's satisfied little grin and started pacing away again.

"_Balthazar?"_ It was barely a whisper, and Dean barely heard it, but it sounded like Cas wasn't entirely sure of what he was saying. Like he was remembering something he hadn't before. _"Balthazar…stole a spear? Saint George's spear."_

And it hit Dean that young Cas had not known his older brother had faked his death and skipped out of Heaven with a bunch of their toys. It only made him dislike the angel even more.

"That's good, Cas. We'll call him down here and ask if he can lend it to us," Or dunk him in some holy oil 'til he calls uncle and gives up the sword, "Kay?"

"_Okay."_ There was a note of sadness in his voice, along with some exhaustion that Dean didn't like one bit. He only hoped getting his memories back wouldn't make him lose his mind with grief. After all, none of what had happened to Cas in recent years could be put in the happy memories album.

"Okay, buddy. Thanks for your help, you get some rest now, you hear?"

_I'll kick your brother's ass into gear for you._

"_Yes, Dean."_ There was the muffled sounds of the phone changing hands, and it was Bobby on the phone again.

"_What'd you ask him?"_ He could practically _hear_ Bobby's frown, and Dean felt another pang of guilt because, evidently, Cas didn't look good.

"If he knew anything that could help us kill this bitch." Dean rubbed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I think it jogged some of his memory. I don't think he remembered Balthazar playing dead and stealing the goods."

Sam frowned, and Dean suddenly realized that his brother didn't know who Balthazar was.

Great.

Bobby sighed, _"So you're gonna summon him and ask nicely that he give you the spear?" _

Dean glared at the wall, "I don't know about nicely, but I think it's time Balthy pulled his head out of his ass and did something for his brother."

The older hunter snorted_, "Well, you let me know how that goes. I'll put the wards up, in case he decides to try and come check."_

"Good. Thanks, Bobby."

He'd barely hung up the phone before Sam started asking questions.

"Balthazar?"

"Yeah, one of Cas' dick frat brothers," Dean sighed as he got a beer from the fridge and walked back to sit across from Sam.

"And he…'_played dead and stole the goods'_?" Sam wrinkled his nose as he quoted his earlier words.

Clenching his jaw, Dean hesitated for a moment before answering, hoping to god or anyone that this wouldn't put a crack on Sam's wall, "Yeah, turns out Cas thought he'd died in the war." He ran a hand through his hair, "He'd actually taken a page out of Gabriel's book and decided to party around," Dick, "Buying human souls in exchange for Heaven's nukes."

Sam gaped at him for all of two minutes before it all seemed to sink in, "Um…wow. Okay. So Cas says this guy's got something that can kill a dragon?"

"Saint George's spear, yeah." He gulped down his beer and stood up again to take another look at the map.

"Huh. Well, Saint George is the one that killed a dragon and saved a princess, so, I guess—"

"Yeah. Convenient." Dean huffed, glaring at the pictures on the wall.

He could practically feel Sam's eyes on the back of his head as he asked, "So…are we gonna summon him?"

Dean closed his eyes, taking a long breath before turning around. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess we are."

* * *

><p>"Hey," Dean walked into their motel room, holding a bag with the ingredients for the spell. Sam greeted him likewise as he drew something on the table, his back turned to Dean. The older hunter didn't think much of it as he started taking things out of the bag, "So, I'm pretty I've got everything, but we'll still need Bobby to find Balthazar's name in Enochian for us."<p>

But Sam only hummed and kept drawing.

With a frown, Dean stalked back to his brother, "Sam? You lis—" His words broke off as he took notice of what Sam had drawn. The sigil was already traced, but that wasn't the surprising thing. It was the Enochian name at the center. A name Dean now recognized as the one Cas had drawn when trying to find Balthazar the first time.

A name that Sam should not remember.

"What? Oh, I—" Sam scratched his cheek, smiling sheepishly, "I think some of the Enochian Cas taught me actually paid off."

"That says Balthazar?" Dean asked, eyes narrowed as he studied Sam's face.

"Um…I think so? I don't know, I just sort of—knew it." Sam misunderstood Dean's expression for skepticism and backtracked, "But we should probably call Bobby to make sure."

Dean did just that.

And it fucking _was_ the right sigil. Sam knew Balthazar's Enochian name. By memory. A memory he should not _have_, and even Dean himself couldn't remember the bastard's name so Sam would have had to look it up recently. Dread roiled in his stomach at the thought and so Dean pushed it away and focused on bringing the bastard to them.

And that meant he had to get Sam out of here, or Balthazar would ruin everything with his big mouth and who knew how Sam's wall would end up.

Of course, his brother was acting like an excitable puppy, and burned the herbs the second Dean had hung up the phone.

"Sam, wait—" Sam blinked up at him as the fire sparked to life and died almost instantaneously. But it was too late to do anything, and Dean felt his stomach drop as Balthazar appeared, his shirt almost more obscenely open than usual, standing between their beds with a glass of wine and not looking too impressed.

"All right. Is this going to become a thing, boys? Because one would think you'd rather call Cassy than _moi_." He snarked, pointing at himself with a less-than-masculine twirl of his hand.

Dean could feel Sam's eyes on him as he glared at the angel; because Balthazar had very clearly said _boys_, plural, and did not seem all that surprised to see Sam. If anything, Balthazar was looking at Sam with an air of interest that had Dean's hackles rising.

"Yeah, you're not exactly our first choice either, chuckles, but this falls more on your expertise than Cas' so let's just get it over with."

"Right. Well, not that I'm not _dying_ to be of help, but I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume dear old Bobby Singer is still alive?" The suggestive way in which he was looking at Sam was enough for all the pieces to slide together, and Dean was now staring at the angel with nothing short of raging homicidal intent.

Sam, however, was understandably confused.

"What? Of course he's alive, what do you mean?" Sam's eyes moved between Dean and Balthazar, full of puppy-faced hurt because 'Dean, what is he talking about?'.

Balthazar raised his eyebrows, looking at Sam for a moment before meeting Dean's eyes. "Oops." And the angel had the gall to _laugh_ while looking straight at Dean, "Awkward."

"Alright, listen, you jackass," Dean snarled, stepping right into the angel's space, "I don't know what you said or what your game was, but your little stunt? It almost got Cas killed too, so why don't you quit acting like a freaking clown and help us save your little brother?"

Balthazar paled at the mention of the younger angel, and Dean watched with dark satisfaction as everything started to fall into place for the winged douchebag.

"What happened to Castiel?" He was dead serious now, but Dean was not about to give him any points for late reactions.

"A dragon force-fed him with his juice and now he looks like a toddler."

Sam winched slightly at the harshness of his voice, and if possible, Balthazar paled even more.

"How did that—"

"I don't know. But we're hunting a dragon _now_, and Cas said you stole the spear of Saint George in your little impromptu death party, so how about you get your thumbs outta your ass and help him out for once."

Balthazar's eyes were storming with rage at his daring words, but also dark with guilt and worry for his brother. He and Dean stood toe to toe for a long moment before the angel finally gave in.

"All right." He sighed, no joke in his voice, "I will help you with the dragons." Dean narrowed his eyes, knowing that was not all, "But I want to see Castiel first."

Dean's glare didn't let up, "Not a chance in—"

And then they were gone.

"Dean!" Sam's eyes widened as his brother and the angel disappeared from the room, "Damn it!" He roared, knocking the bowl of burnt herbs onto the floor.

A few moments later, his phone rang, "Dean, ar—"

"_Yeah, Sammy, it's me, and I'm _fine_."_ Sam practically deflated and sank onto the bed with relief, _"Listen, I'm at Bobby's but Balthazar will send me back as soon as he's done talking to Cas. Then he says he'll bring us the spear."_ Sam rubbed his forehead tiredly, _"You see what else you can get on Puff the magic dragon and try to figure out where it's holed up. I'll be back soon."_

"Wait, De—" But his brother had already hung up. Glaring down at the cell phone, Sam sighed and tossed it on the bed before pushing himself off the bed.

Standing alone in the room, Sam looked at the laptop on the table and the pictures and sources pinned to the map on the wall.

Heaving a long breath, he decided he might as well get to it, "Great."

Dean closed his eyes as he hung up on Sam. He'd have to think of a way to answer all the questions his brother was sure to have after Balthazar's little act.

"Not to ruin your moment of manly angst, but can I see my brother yet?"

He was going to kill him.

Soon.

With a glare, Dean shoved past the angel towards the door to Bobby's house. Thank god the old man had thought to put up the wards, or Balthazar would have just zapped his way into the house no problem or questions asked.

Knocking loudly on the door, Dean hoped Bobby brought out the shotgun and shot the angel in the face. "Bobby! Open up!"

The door opened almost immediately, Bobby standing there, shotgun and angel blade at the ready and with a glare that would send any lesser man running. But Balthazar was an annoying prick and apparently he wasn't in the mood to joke around.

"Yes, yes, very frightening, I think I soiled my pants, now will you be a dear and let me in."

Bobby met Dean's eyes and waited for his nod before gruffly taking a step back and scratching one of the sigils by the door. "No zapping around, ya hear?" The old hunter growled as he let them in.

"Whatever." But still Balthazar stepped inside without wing-action, "Where is Castiel?"

Bobby nodded towards the living room, and the angel was off, followed closely by the hunters.

"Cas?" Balthazar called out. It still made Dean cringe to hear that nickname coming out of an angel's lips.

"Balthazar?" Cas tentatively responded as he stepped out from behind the couch. The older angel was down on his knees the second he saw him, studying the child for what remained unseen to the humans.

"Oh, little brother," Balthazar whispered, sorrow in his voice, "How did this happen?"

"You know." There was a harsh quality to Castiel's voice that Dean had not heard before in this shape, the little angel's eyes staring straight into Balthazar's with no ounce of shyness.

Balthazar bowed his head, his shoulders tense. And Dean knew what he was preparing himself for. "You're right. I do."

"Sam," Castiel's eyes were alight with sadness and disappointment, "The spell."

The difficulty with which Castiel let his words out made Dean's chest tighten. Cas was being a little badass and staring his big brother down with an angel-level poker face, but the emotion in his eyes betrayed his youth. Just like it always had.

"I gave it to him," Balthazar admitted, closing his eyes.

"_Why?"_ And it seemed like it had finally become too much. Castiel's small frame shook with the question, afraid and desperate for an answer. And Balthazar's mask was starting to break, his eyes screaming for forgiveness.

"I didn't know, Cassy, I swear—" But Castiel was shaking his head, taking a step away from Balthazar. The older angel looked like he'd just been punched in the gut. "Please, forgive me."

"The weapons." Dean and Bobby shared alarmed looks. Did Cas remember everything now? The hunter took a step forward, worried that Castiel looked too pale as he once again got his emotions under control. He was just a fledging, wasn't he meant to be pure and genuine emotion without masks?

_Jesus, Cas…_

"What would you have me do?" Balthazar finally relented, the set of his shoulders sagging and defeated.

"_Help."_ Castiel's eyes were pleading behind his marble mask, "Help Sam and Dean. Help our brothers and sisters." God, he knew about the war, too? "Take my place."

Dean could see the hesitation in Balthazar, the way he was itching to refuse to get involved and run away again. But there was guilt weighing him down, and with a sigh, he nodded. "Only until you become of age again."

The hunters rolled their eyes, and Castiel sighed quietly before nodding as well.

"Yes."

Balthazar then reached tentatively for Castiel, and the little angel relaxed slightly and allowed his brother to pick him up, holding him tight to his chest. Cas practically melted against him, little fists gripping the angel's jacket like a lifeline.

The way Balthazar carefully caressed Castiel's back, just shy of touching him, made Dean realize the angel was stroking Cas' wings.

Feeling a pang of longing, Dean looked away, wondering how angel wings feel to the touch. He thought about leaving the room for all of a second before throwing the idea away. He didn't trust Balthazar not to fly away with Cas when they weren't looking.

The sound of Balthazar's hushed voice as he whispered to is little brother made Dean tilt his head. Balthazar was speaking Enochian. Cas answered with nods and shakes of his head, only giving a quiet answer from time to time, but soon enough, he'd fallen asleep in Balthazar's arms.

The angel stood still for a moment, pressing his lips to the mop of messy dark hair, and whispered one last thing in Enochian before turning to face the hunters.

"After I help you, I won't always be available, since I'm taking Cassy' job for a while…" And it looked like it almost hurt him to say it, which made something like satisfaction twitch in Dean's lips. "But if you need my help…for _Castiel_…I will do my best to be here."

"Thank you," And he meant it. For all that Dean didn't like the guy, it was good to have him on their side.

Stepping forward, Dean reached for the little angel and waited as Balthazar's hand curled protectively around Cas before he clenched his jaw and carefully shifted so Dean could pick him up.

Immediately Cas curled up in his arms, his head finding its usual spot on the crook of Dean's neck. The angel's breaths were soft against his skin, and the hunter relaxed almost immediately. He was worried of how all these memories would affect Castiel, but for now they would let him sleep. Taking a moment to reassure himself that Cas was okay, Dean closes his eyes briefly before turning to Bobby and letting him take over baby-angel-holding duty.

"Get me back to Sam," Dean's eyes had a newly determined glint to them as he turned to Balthazar, "The sooner we kill this sucker the sooner we can get out of each other's faces."

Balthazar smirked, "Couldn't have found a more eloquent way to put it."

Dean exchanged one last look with Bobby before he was gone, once again, via Angel Air.

He just knew he wouldn't poop for two weeks at least, after this.


	9. Safe

_**A.N.** Once again I apologize for how long it's taking me to update. But fret not! I am going to finish this fic no matter how long it takes. All of my incomplete stories will eventually be completed. Just. Not yet. Or soon. Because I suck._

_Anyway, hope you like the chapter!_

* * *

><p>"All right, boys." Balthazar handed Dean a rather plain-looking, wooden spear. "That should do the job nicely," He looked around, obviously not happy with having to be responsible for a while. Served the bastard right. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go reign in Cassie's troops and explain why I'm still alive." He rolled his eyes and disappeared with the sound of fluttering wings.<p>

"Pompous dick." Dean muttered once he was gone, weighing the spear in his hand.

"He didn't look surprised to see me." Sam said, his thinking-bitchface on. "He knows who I am."

"Everyone knows who you are, Sam." Dean mumbled without energy, rubbing his face tiredly, "Lucifer's vessel, remember?"

"Yeah" Bitchface to the max, "Who just so happens to have spent a year and a half in the Cage. But he seemed not at all impressed that I was here, so what the hell, Dean?" The elder Winchester looked up, eyes firm and impenetrable.

"We're not talking about this now," there was no room for argument in his tone, and Sam seemed to understand this even as he opened his mouth to protest, "Those dragons could be the answer to helping Cas." Sam closed his mouth, a flash of shame in his eyes. "Yeah." Dean tossed the spear on the bed and went to get his gun. "So, let's figure this out before we start throwing accusations, alright?"

The underlying exhaustion in Dean's voice must have finally clued Sam in, and so his brother stayed blessedly silent, nodding before getting himself ready to go on the hunt. Glancing at Sam from the corner of his eye, Dean put his jacket on and took the spear.

"Ready?" Dean asked, taking a moment to look at his brother. He really had missed Sam. And it was evident just how far from the real thing that soulless copy had been when looking at his brother's patented puppy face now.

Sam steeled himself, taking a breath before nodding with confidence. First hunt since Hell.

Here we go.

* * *

><p>Turns out that the dragon (or dragons, they weren't sure at this point) had holed up in the sewers of an abandoned part of town.<p>

That just downgraded them from the cool mythological creatures in books to the lame lizard that was flushed down the toilet, as far as Dean was concerned. But as they approached the dragons' lair, the brothers could already hear the girls crying, and Dean traded a look with Sam, tightening his grip on the spear.

Nodding at Sam to go ahead with the plan, the hunters split up, and Dean moved as far away from the girls' distressed sounds as he could before waltzing into the light like he was taking a stroll through the park.

The response was instantaneous.

One minute he was looking around, twirling the spear in his hand, and the next he was surrounded.

Two dragons, then.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I think I must have gotten lost." He looked around again, as though trying to recognize his surroundings. "Could you point me to the nearest dragon lair? I seem to have taken a wrong turn somewhere and ended up in a shithole instead."

The dragons sneered, obviously not happy with his tone, "You're the angel's little hunter." The one in front of him said as they both started circling him. Dean was pretty sure this was the one that had bled into Cas' mouth. "I must ask," he smirked, "Is he drinking his juice like a good little angel?"

Dean's knuckles were white as he forced himself not the stab the creep in the face, "You know, he's actually more a fan of chocolate. Fruit doesn't do it for him." He forced a smile as he heard the dragon behind him getting closer.

Seriously, just who did they think they were dealing with?

With one practiced move, Dean twirled the spear around and stabbed backward, his smile turning into a toothy grin as an agonized scream echoed through the sewers. The smell of burnt flesh greeted his nostrils, and as the dragon's scream faded into a wet gurgle, he tore the spear out, relishing in the look of surprise in the other dragon's face.

Dragon #2 fell to the ground behind him, dead, and Dean changed his stance and grip on the spear, ready to attack the monster in front of him.

"Where did you get that?" The dragon hissed, his true nature becoming evident as those giant bat wings came out to play.

"A little bird gave it to me." Dean snarked before lunging forward. But with the element of surprise gone, the dragon knew better than to underestimate him as he jumped out of the spear's range, snarling and spitting sounds of fury in a language Dean did not recognize.

Dean would have laughed at whatever nonsense he was spouting if the dragon hadn't decided to bring out the claws. "You think this changes anything?" The dragon sneered as he swiveled around, wings out to stab Dean in the heart. "This won't bring your angel back to normal." The hunter jumped out of the way, making another swipe with the spear, managing to slice across the creature's stomach.

There was a sizzle and an orange glow, but the cut was too shallow to do any real damage, much to Dean's disappointment. "Well, maybe I'm here for a different reason." Dean snarled, his grin sharp and his eyes dark as he dodged another blow from those deadly claws.

"What? Revenge?" The dragon's laughter echoed all around the sewer, and Dean took his chance.

Kicking the dragon's legs from under him, Dean slammed his foot down on the creep's chest, pressing the tip of the spear to his heart.

"Maybe," Dean pushed the spear down just slightly, his lip curling with a satisfied sneer as the dragon squirmed, fear shining deep in those condescending eyes. "I'd like to ask you a couple questions first." The thing glared at him like it was going to change anything, and Dean knew he was pushing his luck by keeping him alive much longer, but he wanted to enjoy this.

"First question," He shifted the spear so that it dug more into the dragon's chest, "I think I'm supposed to stab you in the heart with this, right?"

Seething silence was his answer.

More than enough.

"Awesome. Second question," His eyes darkened as he increased the pressure, "Who is the _Mother_, or whatever you called her? What does she want with Castiel?" He dug the point deeper in between two ribs, raising his eyebrows at the pained noise that escaped the stubborn creature. "Oh, sorry, I guess that was two questions, huh? My bad," he smiled coldly, "So how about you start talking before I take out a lung?"

"You can't stop her," The dragon's voice shook as he declared this, then the son of a bitch started laughing, "You really think…that we are the only ones?" Dean snarled, digging the lance deep enough that it scraped against the fucker's heart. A wet rasp cut off the dragon's laughter, and he spit blood up at the hunter.

Well that just warranted another push.

This time, Dean won himself a scream, and the dragon could not hide the pain or fear from him no matter how much he tried to laugh, "She's coming." He grinned a bloody smile, "And when she does, she'll take that little bird of yours," His cackle was cut off by an agonized groan as Dean pushed down yet again, "You won't be able to do a thing to stop it." Dean glared as the dragon smiled at him, "Your angel is going to—"

The dragon's strained voice was drowned out by the gurgle of his own blood as he was stabbed through the heart. Dean watched as fire illuminated the empty body before it went completely limp.

* * *

><p>Sam had gotten the girls out of their cells and was now trying to get them to calm so he could go help Dean. But they were understandably scared and didn't want to be left alone.<p>

"Listen, my brother—" He looked over his shoulder, trying to listen for Dean or the dragons, "He's fighting those things right now, and I need to go help him."

"It's alright, Sam." They all looked to the side to see Dean walking towards them. Sam could see the tension in his brother's shoulders and knew he was keeping it together mostly for the girls' sakes.

"Dean?" The girls seemed to relax once they realized Dean wasn't a threat and Sam walked up to his brother, not liking the look in his eyes one bit, "What happened? Did you kill them?"

"Yep." He smiled, no warmth in his eyes. "Creepy bat people are gone, girls." He turned a more convincing smile in the girls' direction. "You're going home."

Dean's words were greeted with relieved sighs and tears of gratitude, and Sam was almost worried that Dean only smiled politely again and lead them outside. There was no flirting involved.

Something had happened.

Dean was acting on autopilot, he was lost in his head and his thoughts. Sam needed to know what the hell the dragons had told him.

"So," He started, not exactly subtle, as they got in the car again after dropping the girls off, "What happened? What did you get from the dragons?"

His brother took a moment to stare blankly at the road ahead before sighing, "Nothing."

"Bullshit."

"Nothing I didn't already know, Sam." Dean replied tiredly.

"Dean, you're practically shaking with tension. Something must have happened." He paused, suddenly more tentative in his questioning, "Is it Cas? Did they mention him?"

Dean's knuckles turned bone white on the steering wheel, "No."

"Come on, Dean. I want to keep him safe too, just tell me. You can't deal with this on your own."

Dean looked pained for a second before turning to look at Sam, something in his eyes full of hesitation, like he was looking for something. He must have found whatever it was because he relaxed slightly and loosened his grip on the wheel.

"Okay. We weren't completely honest with you, about the time the dragon attacked Cas."

Sam clenched his jaw, ignoring the spark of hurt in his chest. This wasn't about him. This was about their friend.

"Okay? So then what happened?"

His brother licked his lips, eyes fixed on the road as he thought for a moment before replying, "After he'd poisoned Cas, he said something about _The Mother_, and how she'd come and take Cas when she needed him. That she wanted to bench him in the meantime."

"The Mother?" Sam frowned, "Like another dragon?"

Dean shook his head, "Bobby doesn't think so. And Cas told him it could be the Mother of All. As in…the mother of all monsters. He called her Eve."

"Oh." Well that…explained why Dean was so tense.

"Yeah." Dean huffed, lips pressed into a thin line.

"But what does she want with Cas? Wait, is that why the dragons wanted virgins?"

"Yeah, Cas said something about a ritual, something that could bring the Mother out of Purgatory." Dean was not looking at him, and Sam could feel his stomach drop at the thought of all the things they'd kept from him.

"Dean, why didn't you tell me this?" He asked quietly, disappointment weighing down his heart.

"Because we just got you back, Sam." Dean said firmly, something a little desperate in his voice, "I didn't want to throw you into our mess right away, okay? It's a lot to take in. I was going to tell you, just…not yet."

With a sigh, Sam turned to the window. He understood Dean's reasoning, but he couldn't help but resent the fact that they'd left him out of this. Cas was as much his friend as he was Dean and Bobby's. Fresh out of hell or not, he'd have wanted to help the angel just as much as them.

"Okay. So what now?" Dean's tension seemed to decrease a bit, and Sam knew that his brother really didn't like hiding things from him.

"We go back to Bobby's. Figure out what to do next."

* * *

><p>Cas was waiting at the door when they got there, standing just inside the house and bouncing like all he wanted to do was run out to greet them. Bobby must have told him not to leave the house, so he'd stay safely inside the Enochian wards.<p>

Dean couldn't help but smile at the sight of the little angel, and quickly took his bag from the trunk before walking into the house. Sam followed with an amused look, laughing when Cas practically jumped on Dean, the older hunter dropping his bag to make sure the toddler didn't fall.

"Whoa. Hey, Cas," Dean chuckled, raising his eyebrows when a small hand was placed on his forehead, Castiel's eyes narrowed in concentration. It took him a second too long to realize what the angel was doing, "I'm fine, Cas. The dragons didn't stand a chance."

Castiel ignored him and continued with his angelic check-up. Finally satisfied, he pulled his hand back with a nod, then looked at Sam expectantly.

"Sam." He raised his hand, silently willing the taller man to submit. Kneel before the hand, moose.

"It's fine, Cas. I didn't fight them, De—"

"_Sam."_ Blue eyes narrowed into slits, sending him a dirty look.

Bobby chuckled, leaning on the wall, "Might as well give in, he's not going to let it go."

Dean snickered as Sam slumped his shoulders like a chastised kid in the face of the tiny angel's glare, and walked closer to them, leaning down slightly so Cas could put his hand on his massive forehead.

The older hunter watched carefully. He had a feeling Cas was checking on the wall, rather than for injuries, and he felt a spark of gratitude towards the angel for being a sneaky little bastard.

Letting out a relieved sigh, Cas removed his hand from Sam's forehead and smiled. "Safe."

Dean felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, unaware of it until that moment. "Safe?" he asked again, meeting Castiel's eyes.

The little angel nodded solemnly, then patted Dean's forehead again. "Safe."

Sam chuckled, eyes fond as he took on their little moment, unaware of the seriousness of Castiel's test. "Alright, now that we're all _safe_, how about some food? I'm starving."

"Well, don't look at me, you know where the kitchen is." Sam grinned at Bobby and walked over to the kitchen, leaving the three of them at the front door. Bobby waited a moment before taking a long look a Dean, "So, what happened?"

Dean shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly, aware of Castiel's blue eyes still fixed solely on him. "Nothing. There were two of them. Killed one, tried to chat up the other one, but he didn't say anything we didn't know."

"Killed that one too?" It wasn't really a question.

"Yeah." Dean shrugged, "So at least the Mother's not getting out just yet, but we've still got jack squat on how to fix Cas or keep her away for good."

So they hadn't moved ahead at all, really.

Suddenly there was a loud bark coming from outside, and Dean could feel his blood run cold. He looked at Bobby, their eyes wide, and knew that the hunter had heard it too.

"Dean?" Sam called from the kitchen, rushing back to them, alarm clear in his voice.

Hellhound.

"Front door, Sam." Dean replied, turning towards the entrance, clutching the angel closer to him.

He looked at Bobby over his shoulder and the older hunter nodded before going for his shotgun. That ugly bitch was getting nowhere near them.

But then Cas had to tilt his head and disappear, making Dean's stomach practically drop to his feet. "Cas!"

That was enough to put the other two hunters on edge, and their eyes met for a terrifying moment before they all dashed to the door.

Outside, Castiel stood, still in one piece, not a single scratch on him.

Petting the air.

Oh fuck.

"Freaking Crowley," Dean muttered under his breath, rubbing his eyes.

"What the hell?" Sam yelled, taking a step forward, probably to pull Cas away from the fucking hell beast he was so calmly petting.

"Sam stop." Dean put a hand on his brother's chest, holding him back just as a threatening snarl broke the air in front of them. Jesus but the thing had to be freaking huge.

"What do you mean stop? Cas is—" Sam looked ready to have a conniption or something. Was it sick that Dean was secretly happy to see that much concern in his brother's eyes again? Yeah. Probably.

"He's fine, Sam, look at him." He nodded towards the little angel, who was leaning tiredly against empty air, a small smile on his face as a clump of his hair was suddenly sticking up like it had hair-gel or something.

Ugh.

Gross.

Sam was still making wounded giraffe noises as Dean crouched down as close as he dared. "Okay, Cas. I know you like the Hellhound. But it's gotta go."

The thing growled again, and Cas frowned a little, then handed Dean a note.

"What's this?" He blinked, taking the folded piece of paper. Castiel merely leaned back against the hellhound, scratching its side.

"From Crowley." Cas informed him before smiling up at the big ugly thing. Thank God Dean couldn't see it.

With a sigh, he opened the note and prepared for whatever nonsense Crowley wanted from them this time.

_Hello boys,_

_Just heard of the moose's latest attempt at tarnishing my associate. _

_My puppy Fen will be keeping an eye on the little bird from now on. _

_Press ons her nose to see her._

_Kisses,_

_Crowley_

"Son of a bitch." He muttered, crumbling the piece of paper into a ball. He was going to kill that damn demon one day.

"Dean?" The hunter glanced over his shoulder to see both Sam and Bobby looking at him. "What is it?"

With a sigh, Dean stood up, burying the note in his pocket. He glanced apologetically at Bobby.

"Crowley sent the hellhound as a bodyguard for Cas."

"WHAT?!" They said it both at the same time. It was kind of impressive.

"Yeah, apparently he doesn't trust us to keep him safe." He gave Bobby a brief look, hoping the hunter would get it. Bobby stared back stubbornly before deflating in surrender.

"Fine. But there better be a way for us to see the damn thing, I'm not sleeping with an invisible beast from hell roaming around."

Sam was looking at Bobby like this was some sort of personal betrayal, but Dean ignored him in favor of turning to Cas, who looked like he was falling asleep standing up. "Hey, Cas?" Blue eyes blinked up at him wearily and the lines on Dean's brow softened slightly, "Crowley said we had to press the hellhound's nose to see it." Which sounded like bullshit but hey. You never know.

Castiel's eyes crinkled with amusement, and Dean knew he'd been had. "It's a joke." Cas helpfully informed him, then turned to stand in front of the hellhound. A small submissive whine was heard as the thing blew some air right in front of Cas' face. It was probably lying down, if it was at eye-level-ish with Castiel.

Castiel reached forward, seemingly taking the beast's head in his hands as he stared fixedly into empty air.

And then suddenly there was a freakishly gigantic wolf in Bobby's porch.

"Jesus Christ."

"Son of a bitch."

_"Balls."_


	10. Forest Fire

_**A.N.** ...I think I should just show up with a tomato shield to cower behind from now on and leave the excuses at home this time, don't you?_

_**Disclaimer:** Supernatural and its characters are not mine. Nor are the few words I commandeered for one little scene in this chapter. Shhh._

* * *

><p>Dean glared sullenly at the thing currently sitting in the living room with their little angel.<p>

From the kitchen.

_What?_ Like he was getting anywhere near that _fleabag_. And if Cas thought that hiding the hell beast's true form by making it look like a wolf helped…well, it _did_. But that was not the point. It was a freaking HELLHOUND. It didn't matter that he was all fluffy and majestic now. The thing was one of the scariest monster's they'd dealt with and Dean was not about to go make friends with it.

Of course it probably beat sitting across from Sam, who was giving him a delightful mix of his infamous bitchface to go with betrayed puppy eyes and a side of constipated.

Awesome.

"Take a picture, Sam," He grouched, "It'll last longer."

"A war. In _Heaven?_" Yeah, Sam had found out about that after the hellhound. There was no real way of explaining Crowley's interest in Cas without more lies. And Dean was tired of lying. So they'd somehow managed to explain what'd happened with minimal detail so as to not poke a hole through Sam's wall.

"_Civil_ war, and yep." Dean corrected taking a sip of his whiskey.

"And _Crowley_…offered Cas souls from Hell so he could stand up to Raphael, so they could both look for Purgatory and split the souls they got from there?"

"Mhm."

"But what—what about _you_?"

Dean didn't look away from the hellhound, narrowing his eyes slightly when the thing nudged Castiel to sit against its flank. Cas fell asleep almost instantaneously. The thing was probably warm and comfortable. Bitch. "What about me."

"Well why didn't—Didn't Cas ask you for help?"

_Oh, so it's that time of the night. Awesome._

With a tired sigh, Dean looked away from the disgustingly cute scene in the living room to stare at his brother.

"He didn't." Sam's puppy eyes were at risk of getting teary, so Dean looked at his glass and added, "Apparently Cas thought I'd given enough." He rubbed his face, "Or so Crowley said."

"…You don't believe him?" Dean sent a halfhearted glare his brother's way.

"Well, it sounds just like Cas, right? Self-sacrificing son of a bitch chose the worst of the Winchester traits, so I'm not exactly surprised." He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes because he didn't need to look to know that Sam was giving him one of his sympathetic looks. _I acknowledge your pain. Fuck you, Sam._ "Anyway, that's done. Cas can't worry about the war anymore, hence the pompous douchebag taking care of things upstairs for now."

Sam stayed blessedly quiet for a moment, and they both went back to staring at the sleeping angel and the hellhound.

"So, how come Crowley's still interested in Cas?"

Yes, how indeed.

Dean snorted, "If you ask me, asshole's gone and fallen for our nerdy angel's awkward charm."

Sam let out a disbelieving scoff, "Wow. Irony,"

"Tell me about it."

After a long moment, Dean felt Sam's eyes back on him and willed himself not to look. After a minute or two, he snapped, "What."

"It's just…did you ever go to Lisa?"

_Did you do what you promised?_

Dean faced Sam, eyes cold, "Actually, yeah, I did." He silently dared Sam to question him. But Sam was a stubborn bitch.

"And?" Sam raised his eyebrows, "How long did you stay?"

He could practically hear Sam's guess in his head. _A week? A month? Month and a half?_

"A year." Dean felt a hint of bitter satisfaction at the surprise in Sam's face.

There was yet another moment of silence before Sam asked again, his voice quiet. "What happened?"

"They were put in danger because of me." He answered. Simple enough. No need for further detail because that had been mostly it. What's another lie of omission? "It was for the best. So I left."

"And you and Lisa…"

With a sigh, Dean thought he might as well answer him this, "We broke it off…after a while." He shrugged, and took another sip of his drink, "Wasn't really fair to string her along."

Another silence.

"I'm sorry." For all that Dean hated chick flick moments, he knew Sam really _was_ sorry. And honestly, the fact that he felt anything at all was more than enough to tolerate these moments a bit more.

So Dean gave him a small genuine smile, "I know. I'm okay, though." And he was. Ending things with Lisa didn't hurt anymore, and while he missed her and Ben both, he knew they wouldn't get back together. He didn't want to either. "I am."

Sam gave him a long look before nodding with a smile of his own.

"After you're done braiding your hair, if either of you princesses would like to pull the angel off his furry pillow," Bobby grouched as he walked past them to get a glass of hunter's helper, "Cause I ain't touching it."

Dean scoffed and stood from his chair, groaning as something in his back popped back into place, "I'll get him."

The hunter heard the muffled conversation behind him as he neared the hellhound. "I thought you were a dog person, Bobby." "You shut your trap. Idjit." At least Bobby was starting to behave more like he used to.

Standing over the tangle of angel and wolf, Dean tried to figure out a way that he could pick Cas up without waking the pest. But as he leaned down to do so, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and glanced at the wolf to see it staring at him with one eye open.

"What?" He hissed, "I'm just taking him to bed," he paused, "You can follow if you want."

Not like the dog wouldn't do whatever the hell it wanted. It was more the size of a lion than a wolf. Freak.

When no growling or barking came from the thing, Dean finally managed to pick Castiel up, unable to hold back a smile as the little angel immediately settled with his head on the crook of Dean's neck. A small hand immediately curled over the brand on his shoulder, and Dean's eyes softened as protectiveness flared in his chest once again. He rubbed the angel's back soothingly and held him close as he ignored the hound and walked towards what had quickly become Cas' room, the sound of claws clicking against the floor following after him.

* * *

><p>"Well," Bobby grunted after a moment of silence, "I'm gonna turn in," he nodded at the bottle in Sam's hand, "You finish that, you buy another one."<p>

"Yes sir," Sam smiled tiredly at the old hunter as he grumbled the rest of the way out of the kitchen and to his bedroom.

Finally alone, Sam took a moment to let what Dean had told him sink in. Running a hand through his hair, he tried not to think about everything his family had been dealing with since they'd stopped the Apocalypse. So much for it being over. Could they never get a moment's rest?

"I know," a smoky voice sighed conversationally from the other side of the kitchen, making Sam jump, "It's so stressful, isn't it?" Crowley stood at the counter, hands in his pockets as he watched the hunter with a curious look in his eyes, "I'd say you need a vacation, mate."

"What do you want?" He snarled quietly, hoping not to alarm Dean of the demon's presence. "Your hellhound not a good enough bodyguard? Or are you just that bored?"

"Well, with you in the room, you never know," Crowley smirked, "Just wanted to pay a little visit and feel the atmosphere for myself."

_With me in the room?_

Crowley must have noticed his confusion, because he tilted his head slightly before talking again, "So," He glanced at the bottle of whiskey on the counter and wrinkled his nose, "Had any more homicidal urges of late?"

"What?"

"Holy Mother of Sin," Crowley's face was too fucking amused for Sam's liking, "He actually got it back for you."

"Got what back?"

What the hell.

"Well, considering he's letting you stay in the same room as the wee little angel and your self-appointed father figure, it finally makes sense. I was starting to wonder if he was more of an idiot than I thought." He nodded appreciatively, "That's a relief."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Sam's heart was going a mile a minute, trying to beat its way out of Sam's chest. Why did he have the feeling that he should know exactly what Crowley was going on about?

"So," Crowley finally directed his attention back to Sam, eyebrows raised expectantly, "How does it feel?"

"How does _what_ feel?" Sam sneered. What the hell was taking Dean so long?

"Come now, Moose, keep up," When Sam only glared at him, Crowley rolled his eyes, "To get your soul back, you inarticulate yeti. Ho—" The demon froze midsentence, a renewed spark of interest flaring up in his eyes like a forest fire as he looked at Sam more closely, "You didn't know."

Meanwhile, Sam was certain he'd turned white as a sheet, seeing as his heart was practically down at his feet.

"I didn't…have my soul?" Sam stammered, looking at the demon for answers. "So what, I've been walking around on empty?"

Crowley looked like the cat that ate the canary, "For about a year and a half, yes."

Bile crawled up Sam's throat, and the hunter swallowed convulsively, his stomach churning with nausea at the thought. Running a shaking hand through his hair, he wondered how _Dean_ could have kept this from him. Why would he hid—

"You said you were surprised Dean had let me in the same room as Cas and Bobby," He stood from his chair, dread closing in around his lungs and making it hard to breathe, "What did you mean?"

The demon studied him for a long moment.

Then he smiled.

* * *

><p>Dean woke up with what felt like a little monkey attached to his chest, and the smell of dog everywhere. Opening one eye, he let out a groan at the sight of the hellhound sprawled all over the foot of the bed. The little bundle glued to his chest moved and suddenly a pair of big blue eyes were blinking down at him.<p>

"Mornin' Sunshine," He mumbled, rubbing sleep away from his eyes as a little head tilted to the side in question. He chuckled, "Jus' 'nother expression, Cas."

The angel nodded like that was all he needed to know. It probably was. Then he stood clumsily on the mattress and walked over to the giant wolf staring at them from the other end of the bed. Dean made a face, and he could have sworn the thing was giving him the stink-eye right back. But before he could say something insulting, Cas had to go and be cute and flop down on the hellhound.

"Morning Sunshine," Dean could feel his manliness disappear in one second flat, because what the fuck why couldn't the angel try to stop being adorable.

The hellhound's tail wagged as Cas nuzzled its pelt sleepily, obviously not finding a problem with the cuddly angel.

"Alright, Cas, let's get some breakfast, huh?" He stood with a groan. Cas had woken up when he'd tried to put him to bed the night before, and Dean had promised to stay until he'd fallen asleep. He must have passed out while waiting.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Dean ruffled Castiel's mop of dark hair on his way to the door, glancing back to see the fledgling climb off the bed and follow him. The hellhound right next to him.

Out of spite for the dog, and not at all because he'd gotten to like carrying the angel around, Dean picked Cas up and threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. A surprised squeak left Castiel's mouth as he was suddenly high up, looking down at the hellhound following after them.

"Goodbye, Fen." Cas called, and Dean glanced back to see the little guy waving at the dog.

"Yeah, _goodbye Fen_," Dean echoed, "Time for the real people to have some food."

An annoyed grumble came from the beast walking behind them, and Dean found himself smiling. _That's right, bitch_.

Castiel patted Dean's back, and the hunter brought him down from his shoulder to carry him more comfortably against his hip. He smiled at his friend with fond eyes but came to a stop when he realized the angel was staring at the kitchen without blinking.

"Cas?" He glanced at the kitchen, he couldn't see if anyone was in there, "What's wrong?" Dean chanced a look at the hellhound, figuring it'd growl or something if there was an intruder in the house. But the damn wolf only stared right back at him, no signs of hostility in its eyes.

"Sam," He looked back at the angel, a frown setting deep on his brow this time. "His soul." Dread started roiling painfully in Dean's stomach at the mention of the S words. "It's shaking," Cas frowned, tilting his head before looking at Dean with eyes full of concern, "Scared. Sad."

_Shit._

"Okay," He glanced at the kitchen one last time before putting Cas down, "Okay, here's what we're gonna do." Dean stayed crouched in front of Castiel, "You're gonna stay here with Fen, and I'm gonna talk to Sam, kay? Then we'll all get breakfast together."

Cas narrowed his eyes slightly, giving him one of his soul-searching stares before nodding. Before the hunter could stand again, Castiel placed his little hand on Dean's forehead. "Calm."

Dean's eyes softened, "Yeah," he nodded, "Yeah, I'll try."

Because, realistically speaking, whatever was up with Sam would not end in peaceful talk.

* * *

><p>The second he walked into the kitchen, Dean knew that Sam knew. Busted. Awesome.<p>

"Dean."

Didn't mean he couldn't play stupid though.

"Yeah," He turned his back to Sam as he went to get the coffee started.

"I am so…so sorry," Dean closed his eyes, "I can't even begin to say…"

More stupid, "For what?"

He could feel Sam's tired annoyance aimed at the back of his neck. "You know what."

With a sigh, Dean turned around and faced his brother, "Was it Bobby?"

"Crowley."

"Crowley," Dean grumbled, "Fucking dick."

"You should have told me, Dean—"

"You weren't supposed to _know_."

"—what I did...to Bobby, to _you_—to _Cas_?" Dean clenched his jaw and looked away, refusing to look at Sam's puppy eyes when he said the angel's name. Fucking Crowley. "Of course I should know."

"Sam, Death didn't just shove your soul back in, okay? He put up the Great Wall of Sam between _you_ and the things that you don't remember, and trust me when I say that the things you don't know could _kill you._" No use sugar coating it now. "That's not a joke!"

"Alright," Sam nodded, like he knew just was at stake here. Damn soulful little brother. "But I have to set things right. Or what I can, anyway."

"It wasn't you!" He snapped stubbornly.

Sam heaved a sigh, "You know, I kinda feel like I got slipped the worst mickey of all time, and I woke up to find out that I burned the whole city down." He said it so calmly, but Dean could see his hands shaking on the table. "And you can say it wasn't me, but…I'm the one with the Zippo in my pocket, you know?" Dean rubbed his face, refusing to look up, "So I'm not sure it's that cut 'n dry." No, it wasn't, but it didn't mean Dean couldn't try to keep Sam away from all of it. "And I appreciate you trying to protect me, I really do. But I gotta fix…" Sam shrugged helplessly, "What I gotta fix."

Dean waited for the dreaded question.

"So I need to know what I did."

He chanced a look at his brother, shaking his head, "You don't know how dangerous that could be—" He pleaded.

"What would you do?"

_Damn it, Sam._

"Right. Same thing."

"Sam…" There was no way Dean was telling him anything.

"Look, Crowley was being a cryptic asshole about the past year and a half but…" Dean looked at him, Sam was looking at his lap like a chastised kid, "He did make it pretty clear that I'd done something to Bobby, and Cas…specially Cas."

No.

"Dean." The elder Winchester shook his head, turning his back to his brother again and pressing his hands to the counter, "Dean, I _need to know._" Sam's voice got closer as he got up from his chair to stand by his brother, "He's my friend too, Dean. And if I've done something to hurt him—"

"You did." Dean rasped, unable to look at him, "You did. But he forgave you, Sam." _Both times_. _He doesn't even remember the first one. _He swallowed, "So please, let it go."

He could feel Sam glaring holes at the back of his head, but still Dean refused to look, hoping Sam would give up and go back to his chair so they could start breakfast and forget about this mess.

But Sam was a stubborn bitch.

The sound of Sam's thumping footsteps was all the warning Dean got before he looked up to see Sam walking out of the kitchen and into the living room.

He was looking for Cas.

"_Sam_." He snarled, going after his brother. Like hell he'd let Sam bring that night back for Cas. Like hell he was going to let his brother take a hit at the wall.

* * *

><p>Sam found Castiel in Bobby's study, a book open on his lap. It practically looked like a blanket, the way it covered most of his legs. <em>Jesus, he's so small.<em>

"Hello, Sam." The tiny angel blinked up at him, a small smile forming at his lips and, for a moment, Sam couldn't help but wonder if there was a lick of truth to Crowley's words.

_Well, you certainly made a number on the angel, mate. And you did more than just ruffle his feathers, if you catch my drift_.

He didn't. And he wasn't sure he wanted to. But looking at Castiel now, with the same trust in those big blue eyes, Sam knew he _had_ to know.

_What did I do to you, Cas?_

He could hear Dean somewhere behind him, still trying to catch up and calling his name with every tone of warning in his voice.

"Hey, Cas," He summoned a smile for his friend and carefully went down on his knees next to him. A deep-throated growl made him freeze just as his knees touched the carpeted floor.

Right.

Hellhound.

Making sure not to make any sudden movements, and only slightly amused by the chastising look Castiel sent the hellhound (a look that was obeyed, as the large wolf actually lowered its head submissively), Sam tried to get straight to the point, "Listen, Cas," He cleared his throat, the angel's eyes staring deep into his, "I'm not…really sure how to ask you this but—"

A tiny hand was suddenly on his knee, and Sam had to fight the knot in his throat at the smile on little Castiel's face, "It's okay, Sam."

Shaking his head, Sam tried to regain his resolve. But it turned out he didn't need to.

As he put his large hand over the angel's, Sam's vision went white before being flooded with a mess of images and sounds, unfamiliar yet undoubtedly part of his own memory.

_A small angel limping away from him after being dropped to the floor, terrified blue eyes staring up at him as his own hand held the fledgling down against the table, an angel blade ready to be thrust into that narrow chest—_

Sam flinched, trying to fight them, but as the memory ended, another took its place. And Sam found himself almost wishing he could go back to the first rush of images…

_An older Castiel, wounded, pale, unable to move as Sam climbed over his bloodied form and easily fought back the angel's weak attempts to push him away. The taste of the angel's blood in his mouth as he forced his lips against the angel's, the salt and iron tang of pale skin as he bit and licked his way down Castiel's neck to his heaving chest. Shaking hands struggling to keep him away, "Sam," ragged breaths and pained, pleading rasps as the angel that had considered him a friend begged for him to stop, "Sam, please," the rush of fire that swept through him as the angel's gasps turned into agonized wheezing whines and moans, "Sam, _stop_. Please, Sa—"_

"SAM!"

Sam's world went black before the colors and noises around him invaded his senses once again. He fell back, realizing after a moment that Dean had pulled him away from Castiel.

Castiel, who was looking at him with wide eyes, and a war of fear and concern waging behind all that blue. What little color the little angel had had before was gone, the tint of his cheeks lost to the pallor of his terror as he stared at Sam, frozen.

"Sam, what the hell were you thinking, man?" Dean's voice brought him out of his reverie, and he forced himself to look at his brother, who was studying his face like he was expecting Sam to break down right there, "What happened, are you alright?"

"Cas…" Was all he could mutter as Dean pulled him up into a sitting position.

But his words seemed to be enough for the older hunter to turn to the angel in question, more worry clouding Dean's voice as he echoed Sam's word, "Cas?" The angel did not respond, only stared at Sam, shaking like a leaf, "Cas, come on, buddy, say something."

As the significance of his recovered memories sank in, Sam felt bile crawl up his throat. He'd done that. He'd taken advantage of Cas…tried to kill him.

"Jesus—" He gasped, rubbing his face as he barely managed to speak past the knot in his throat.

"What?!" Dean snapped, "What the hell just happened? What did you do?!"

"Cas, I—" Sam lunged forward, enveloping the small angel into a hug. The way Castiel flinched at the contact made his heart break, but Cas didn't pull away, and Sam couldn't find the will to let him go. "I'm so sorry," He sobbed, clutching the angel closer, "_I'm so sorry."_


	11. Promise

_**A.N. **...I'm alive? I feel like I shouldn't even try to seek forgiveness because this is kind of a really big fAIL on my part, and I'm sorry I haven't updated in so long. I have more or less the rest of the story planned out, but this chapter was sort of an interlude, and it wouldn't come out. TAKE OUT YOUR ROTTEN TOMATOES I won't even try dodging. _

* * *

><p>There is not a sound that can be heard in the whole house. It's unnaturally quiet. Only the light and fast heartbeat of the small creature under his hand can reach Sam's ears as he raises the angel blade over his head.<p>

_No._

Wide blue eyes meet his and the bird-like flutter under his palm slows down. Suddenly calm. Suddenly unafraid.

Suddenly resigned.

_No. No, no, no, no, this didn't happen. This isn't real, I didn't do this. Dean, stop me. Dean, where are you? You're supposed to stop me!_

"I'm sorry, Castiel."

_DEAN!_

A flash of silver. The sound of flesh giving way to a sharp edge. A small, narrow chest that heaves one last time before stopping altogether.

_No—_

Empty blue eyes.

* * *

><p>"NO!" Sam jerked awake, his heart racing in his chest as he managed to get out of his head long enough to see he was in the panic room. On the old cot, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets.<p>

A dream.

A dream, it was just a dream.

Letting out a shuddering breath, Sam ran a hand through his hair. He remembered the look on Dean's face when he'd said he wanted to sleep in the panic room. The way the color drained from his face like everything was finally falling apart, and while at the time he'd been too horrified by his own memories to think about it, now he realized Dean had probably taken the desperation in Sam's voice to mean that the Wall was coming down.

It wasn't.

At least, not as far as Sam could tell. He hadn't remembered anything else. And, other than the nightmare, there hadn't been any more blackouts since the first one that had brought those two memories back to him.

He could only imagine how worried Dean had to be by now. _Probably downed a whole bottle of whiskey._

Getting up with a groan, Sam hesitated before stepping out of the panic room.

The reason he'd wanted to be locked up in there in the first place was that he feared what could happen if his…his soulless self took over again. It was crazy, and now that he had his soul back, would probably never happen, but Sam still shivered at the thought of what he'd done in the last year and a half.

Walking up the stairs like his feet weighed a ton, Sam finally made it to the living room to find Bobby sitting at his desk with a book. It didn't look like he was reading, as his eyes were staring blankly at the pages. Didn't even look like he'd noticed Sam at all, yet.

Clearing his throat, he watched as Bobby startled in his seat and looked up at him. "Sam," he studied his face, as though checking they were still as soulful as they should be, "How're ya feeling?"

Heaving a sigh, Sam proceeded to sit down on the couch. "Good. I mean, I'm pretty sure everything's still where it should be, you know."

Bobby let out a relieved breath, _"Good,"_ he nodded, "That's good. So," old eyes examined Sam once again, and Sam suddenly felt shame burn in his chest, "You wanna tell me what exactly _happened _that made you lose it like that and decide to take a nap?"

"I uh…" he swallowed. At least now he knew why Bobby had been less than friendly when he'd woken up from his soul-redeeming coupon moment with Death, "Crowley was here." Bobby stiffened, but Sam kept his eyes on the ground, "He told me about…well, about my time without a soul."

"Aw, hell—" The old hunter took off his hat to run a hand through his hair. "Sam—"

Sam didn't want to hear it, "And from what he insinuated, I owe you an apology." He finally looked up to meet Bobby's eyes. "I don't…have all the details yet, but I have a rough idea of what happened, and I—" he took a breath, "Bobby, I'm so sorry."

"I know, boy." Sam felt hope reluctantly swell in his chest, "I didn't really get hurt, in the end, so," Bobby managed a smile for him, "It's alright. It wasn't you."

Sam swallowed, nodding his gratitude because suddenly words refused to move past the knot in his throat. "Anyway, I—Dean wouldn't tell me what I did to you, or Cas so," he grimaced, knowing now what a stupid idea that had been, "I went to Cas to…" he sighed, "I don't know, ask him? I don't even know what I was thinking. I just knew that I'd done something to hurt him and that it was bad enough that Dean didn't want to tell me. I had to—I had to know what it was. I had to apologize."

A long silence fell upon the two hunters, and Sam kept his eyes firmly on the ground as he waited for the other's words.

"Did you find out?"

For some reason, the question pulled a strangled laugh out of him, "_Yeah_," he nodded, "Yeah, you could say I saw it all pretty clearly." He rubbed his face, "Bobby what I did—And Dean said that Cas forgave me for it! How can—How can he forgive me so easily for that, I almost—" he rubbed his eyes, angry at his own weakness as he felt the burn behind his eyelids. Bobby stayed blessedly quiet, not offering false comfort for something both he and Sam knew still needed to be resolved, "But yeah. That's what I saw." He looked at the old hunter. The light of the afternoon that fell on Bobby's desk made him frown. And it suddenly hit him like a sledgehammer that Dean and Cas were not here and it wasn't even nighttime yet.

As though he could read the question in the younger man's eyes, Bobby shook his head, "They're upstairs."

The words filled Sam's stomach with dread, "Why? Is Cas okay?" But the hunter was having a hard time meeting Sam's eyes, "Bobby?"

Bobby heaved a sigh, finally looking at Sam with a helpless shrug, "We don't know." It took him a moment to elaborate, "He hasn't woken up yet."

Sam was out of that room and up the stairs barely a second after, his heart beating a death march inside his ribcage.

* * *

><p>Dean jumped when Sam practically stumbled into the room, hand going to his hip on reflex before a look of annoyance and relief spread over his face. Sam could see the second Dean remembered Sam's meltdown from that morning.<p>

"Sam, what's wrong? You okay?" The way Dean's eyes roamed his face like he was looking for visible cracks on a wall made something in Sam's chest tighten. _Is this how it's going to be from now on?_

"Yeah, I'm fine." He cleared his throat, "Just woke up." He didn't want to look at the small form on the bed. "How is he?"

Dean deflated, turning tired green eyes to the little angel. "I don't know." He shook his head, rubbing his face with a sigh, "After you left he sort of…it was like he was in shock. He was shaking so hard I thought he was having a seizure, Sam." The younger man felt his chest tighten at the thought, "Then he just…" Dean shrugged, "Passed out."

Knowing he had to face up to what he'd done, Sam forced himself to look at Castiel. The sight of the little boy, limp and unmoving on the bed, robbed the breath from Sam's lungs. "Christ…" He took another step into the room and closed the door behind him.

It was only once he'd started moving closer to the bed that he remembered the hellhound.

A deep, bloodcurdling snarl made the hair at the nape of his neck stand on end, and Sam found himself staring into the blood red eyes of the gigantic wolf that now stood between him and the angel.

If he needed another pointer that this had been this fault, this one took the cake.

"_Hey._ Fen, cut that out." The harshness of Dean's voice made one of the wolf's ears twitch, and to Sam's surprise the giant hound lowered its head and turned back to its place beside his brother.

_What?_

"Um…did the hellhound just _listen to you?_" He asked with a shaky smile that was more hysterical than amused.

Dean seemed too tired to even grin smugly at the beast's favor, opting instead to pet the dark fur on the hellhound's head distractedly, eyes still fixed on Castiel.

"Yeah, guess she's figured out there's no keeping me away from the little guy." Sam was more surprised by the fact that _Dean _had accepted the thing's presence at the angel's side. "Anyway, she's not that bad."

As though she understood what Dean had said, the hellhound nudged the hunter's knee almost playfully.

…_What the hell._

Since trying to find the sense in this scene would probably break something in his brain, Sam opted instead to just lean against the door and keep his distance. Just in case. Turning his eyes to the little angel once again, Sam found himself blanching at the pallor in Cas' cheeks, the shallowness of his breath. This wasn't a peaceful kind of rest.

"So, what are we gonna do?" he finally asked.

"I don't know." Dean made a face like he'd swallowed a lemon, "Call Balthazar, I guess. He's not just unconscious, something else is keeping him under."

Sam got the irrational urge to press his hand to Castiel's cheek, certain for a moment that it was the thing to bring Cas back. He shook the thought away. Cas was in this condition at all because Sam had touched him and had shifted something inside his soul.

As though he could feel Sam struggle with himself, Dean turned piercing eyes his way. "Sam?" The hellhound looked at him, "You got any ideas?"

Shaking his head, Sam avoided the wolf's red eyes to look at his brother, "Just…thought maybe if I touched him, it'd bring him back. You know, since…since I was the one that did that to him."

"You think?" Dean frowned, like he was considering it, but Sam could see the hesitation in his eyes, "Is that what you did last time? Is that what happened?"

Sam nodded meekly, "I touched his hand and…you know." Got memories of trying to kill a fledgling and molesting an angel of the Lord.

"You okay?" It took him a moment to realize he'd gotten lost in his own head again, and when he looked at Dean he could see the concern in his eyes.

"Dean, did I—" he swallowed, "Did I really do that? To Cas?"

Dean's jaw clenched, and Sam could swear he almost hear the bone creak under the pressure. "Yeah." He stared at Sam, eyes suddenly cold, "Yeah, you did." He let out a long breath, forcing himself to relax by looking at Castiel instead, "But he forgave you." A smile slipped past Dean's lips, "He forgave you, Sammy."

Sam chanced taking a step closer. The hellhound's eyes were on him the whole time, but she didn't growl at him this time, so Sam slowly made his way to Dean and sat across from him, on the other side of the bed.

"I think…I think he didn't remember," he swallowed, "What I did before the dragon did this." He kept his eyes on the little angel, feeling Dean's stare burning a hole in his face. "I think I made him remember."

"Shit," Dean breathed, burying his face in his hands for a moment before pulling himself together. "So, do you still want to try touching him?" It wasn't meant to be hostile; Dean was really just asking if he still wanted to do it. But Sam felt a pang of hurt in his chest anyway.

Heaving a breath, he nodded minutely. "Just…it's my fault," Dean didn't deny it. Somehow that hurt even worse, "I want to try."

"Okay." Still, Dean tensed like he was getting ready to do damage control. And Sam knew his brother had to be desperate to be putting Castiel at risk like this. Because for all that Sam thought it would work, this could go terribly wrong and blow up in their faces. And maybe there'd be no fixing Castiel then.

Glancing at the hellhound to make sure his hand would not be bitten off, Sam reached for Castiel, a lurch in his chest at the sight of his large hand engulfing the tiny angel's.

For a second, nothing happened. But then Sam flinched as he felt a current pass through him. Like static electricity. And suddenly, Castiel's eyes opened, hazed and clouded with the remnants of unconsciousness.

"Cas?" Dean immediately moved closer to the angel, hands hovering over his small chest like he feared Cas would be pulled under again if he touched him. Fen let out a concerned whine, nudging Cas' shoulder with her nose.

"Dean?" Sam winced at the angel's voice. Jesus, he was so small.

"Hey, Featherbrain. You gave us quite a scare, you okay?" Dean's voice shook with relief and worry, a smile plastered on his face for the angel's sake.

Castiel's lip quivered, and something in Sam's heart broke. Dean placed his hand on the angel's chest, visibly shaken at the sight, "Hey, hey, it's okay, I'm here. You're okay, we're all here."

At the mention of 'we', Cas looked around. The second those blue eyes landed on him, Sam could almost feel the angel freeze up.

"Hi, Castiel," He mustered, voice quiet, "I'm—" before he could apologize, a tiny hand latched onto his fingers.

"Sam." Something in the fledgling's voice reminded Sam of a rougher, older version. A firm and absolute note in the sound of his name that reminded him that he was in the presence of a warrior of God, not a toddler. "Light. You have Light. I can see it."

There was such confidence in those words, not an ounce of doubt or resentment in them. And suddenly Sam felt so overwhelmed with relief he had to let out a harsh breath to keep himself from crying like a little boy.

"Yeah?" He croaked, barely managing to make a sound at all.

"You were empty. That's why you hurt." Blue eyes filled with warmth as a small hand squeezed Sam's fingers, "Not anymore. You're not empty anymore. It's okay, Sam."

Feeling like the younger of the two (and he probably still was), Sam ducked his head and pressed his forehead to the mattress, just by the angel's side, like a child that asks for reassurance and is still unsure that he deserves it.

And Sam just knew that his brother would find a way to tease him about this.

Gentle fingers tangled in his hair, petting him with the unpracticed hand of someone so young they're still clumsy even in a motion as simple as giving comfort.

"It's okay, Sam." Castiel said again, and Sam could feel his shoulders shake at the forgiveness he could still receive from his friend. Another larger, stronger hand squeezed his shoulder. And Sam felt his breath hitch at the thought that maybe Dean had forgiven him too.

"Thank you." He choked out, "I'm so sorry—thank you."

* * *

><p>Once Sam managed to pull himself together, Dean had to push his sentimental butt out of the room and towards the bathroom because "Yeah, you need a shower, man."<p>

Sam had given him a kicked puppy face, but otherwise agreed, fortunately. And Dean managed to keep the smile on his face until his brother disappeared out the door. Heaving a sigh, Dean turned to face the pair on the bed.

Fen had hopped onto the bed and was now curled up behind Cas, acting as a furry pillow. And Cas…

Cas' mask had cracked, and his eyes were looking down at the rumpled sheets with a lost expression.

The hunter rubbed his face, preparing himself to offer the support his friend needed from him, then walked back to the bed and quietly sat down next to Castiel. After a while, when Cas still kept silent, Dean decided to intervene.

"Cas…" He started, voice quiet so as to not startle the fledgling. "You okay?"

It was a stupid question, really. And Dean could almost feel the dog giving him a judging stare. _Yeah, yeah, I know_.

Still, Castiel blinked out of his trance to look up at Dean, and there was a brokenness in those eyes he hadn't seen since the night the dragon had done all this. Since before he'd been turned into a child and lost all the pain and memories of the war. The memory of what Sam had tried to do.

_Shit._

"C'mere." He sighed, pulling the little angel to his chest and closing his eyes as the fledgling clung to him like a lifeline. "It's okay, Cas…" It wasn't. It really wasn't. "You did good…you really did, buddy, you were so brave." He kissed the messy tufts of dark hair, holding Cas tighter when the angel started shaking.

"I killed them, Dean." And God, but hearing a three-year old say something like that so brokenly was just wrong. It also meant Sam's little flashback touch had given Cas his memories of the war in Heaven. And considering Cas' reaction when he'd dreamt about Raphael killing angels, to know that he himself had done some of the killing as well must be tearing him apart. "My brothers." His little voice broke, and Dean picked up the fledgling from the bed, feeling his throat tighten as little arms wrapped around his neck.

"It wasn't your fault, Cas." And really, how do you explain to a child that he'd killed his family to save the world. "It wasn't. You had no choice."

"You're not mad?" The tentative question broke his heart, and Dean remembered that Crowley said Cas would probably shift between his old wisdom and his childish innocence. But to hear Cas ask if he was mad at him for killing his brothers...as if Dean had any right to punish him for anything. It made him realize once again just how much the angel had relied on his support. How much it must have hurt to hear Dean undermine his efforts.

"No." He whispered, stroking the boy's hair and kissing his head. "No, buddy, I'm not mad. I'm not mad, this wasn't your fault." Rocking gently where he sat, Dean kept the little angel close, listening to the hitch of his breath, his hiccuped apologies as he clung to the hunter's shirt like he was the only thing keeping him afloat.

After a long moment, Castiel pulled back slightly, face flushed with tears as he looked at Dean with those deep blue eyes, "…Promise?"

It was such a childish thing to ask; such a _human_ thing to do, that Dean couldn't help the twitch of his lips that called for a smile, despite himself. "Yeah, Cas." He assured him, lips pressed to soft dark hair, "Yeah, I promise."

* * *

><p>By the time they made it downstairs, Sam had apparently finished with his shower and was eating Bobby out of house and home. The older hunter seemed too busy with his books to bother berating the idjit and demanding he refill his fridge once he was done. He immediately looked up from the yellowed pages as soon as he heard them come in, though. The relief that spread over Bobby's face was such that Dean could swear some of his wrinkles disappeared.<p>

"Mornin' Sunshines." The older man greeted, not even really trying to hide a smile. Where was a camera when you needed one?

"Morning Sunshine." Cas echoed, apparently figuring this must be a common way to say good morning, ever since Dean had explained him what it meant. The look on Bobby's face was a poem, and Dean shrugged with a barely suppressed smile as the older hunter glanced at him inquisitively.

"How you feelin', Feathers?" The little angel rubbed his eyes—still puffy from crying—and simply let go of Dean's hand to walk over to Bobby's chair and bury his face on the man's thigh. Dean had to cover his mouth with his hand, clearing his throat when Bobby sent him a glare while he brushed the fledgling's messy hair. "You hungry?"

Bleary blue eyes blinked up at the bearded hunter, and Dean could practically see Bobby melt, "Chocolate?" He laughed. Apparently Cas had as big a sweet tooth as Gabriel had had. He was really starting to think it was an angel thing. Maybe they could try luring Raphael into a trap with chocolate bars.

"How 'bout we try somethin' else today, huh?" Bobby suggested with a reproachful look towards Dean. _What?_ It wasn't like he'd been the one to corrupt Cas with sweets. Little bugger had done that all on his own.

"What else?" Despite having been unconscious most of the day, Cas still sounded sleepy—though it hadn't seemed like he'd been resting, while he was passed out. Squinting at Bobby as the older hunter rose from his chair, the angel easily grabbed his hand as Bobby started walking to the kitchen.

"Whatever's left on the fridge, I guess." Dean shook his head an followed them, "Or maybe Sam could take a moment away from gobbling down my food and take a trip to the store." He said, louder than necessary.

The guilty look on Sam's face as he turned to them was only made more hilarious by the smudge of mayonnaise on his chin. Cas giggled at the sight, and Dean could see his brother relax considerably at the sound. He wasn't so sure that Cas had completely let go of what had happened—soulless or not, Sam had really scared him—, but at least Sam could start forgiving himself, if only a little.

Dean immediately took the chance to tease his brother mercilessly, reveling in his hybrid puppy/bitch face, and not even trying not to grin like an idiot at the sound of Castiel's delighted squeals of laughter. Bobby was judging them all from his seat at the table, hiding behind a newspaper, but unable to keep himself from chuckling as a little angel suddenly appeared on his lap, intently reading an article about Wall Street. Fen nudged Dean's leg as she came to sit next to him, and the hunter patted her side and grinned shamelessly at Sam's distrustful look at the hellhound.

It couldn't last, of course.

The phone rang, and Cas immediately fluttered over to Dean's lap as Bobby stood from his chair to take the call. Silence fell over the table while they all listened to Bobby's side of the conversation.

Rufus had found something.

Something that made it sound like the Mother had actually made it topside, after all.


End file.
